Angel Beats: Twenty-One Guns
by Dima02
Summary: The afterlife was created to allow lost souls to fulfill their dreams, find peace and move on. But when dreams collide, there can only be one victor. This is the story of the SSS and Ralf Pak, a brilliant polymath with a singular vision. A bitter dispute over reincarnation ends as a struggle over the meanings of life and happiness. This is a tale about a new birth of humanity.
1. Introduction and Character Descriptions

**Author's Note and Prologue:**

Hello, my fellow _Angel Beats_ fans! It's such a pleasure to meet you. I would first like to thank all of you for the amazing literary and artistic masterpieces that you have produced. The canon _Angel Beats_ story may have ended, but you guys are doing an awesome job of keeping the story alive. Keep up the good work!

I've long been an avid fan of anime, and I've always been fascinated by stories of redemption. I love reading and listening to tales in which people are given a second chance—an opportunity to fix everything wrong with their lives. I vividly remember the joy I felt upon reading the final chapters of _A Christmas Carol_, in which Scrooge is transformed into a new man. Like the Roman poet Ovid, I'm intrigued by changing forms and new entities.

When I first discovered the works of Jun Maeda, _Angel Beats_ was not at the top of my watch list. I was only expecting a simple, charming story about life (with cute girls and guns too). I got more than I could ever wish for. The story was so deep and pitch-perfect. It wasn't just a story about life. It was a story about friendship. It was a story about hope. It was a story about sacrifice. It was a story about everything that matters to me. I learned more from twelve episodes of _Angel Beats _than from an entire semester of dry philosophy lectures at Columbia University.

I cried buckets when _Angel Beats _ended. The ending was perfect. I can think of no way in which it could have been better. But, of course, being the fanboy that I am, I did not want the show to end. The story had become such a large part of my life. I couldn't simply let it go.

So after talking to some fellow _Angel Beats_ fans at school, I decided to write my own fanfiction. Much like the original story, it's a story about redemption, friendship and life. The story follows all of the characters in the original anime, although the events towards the beginning of the story take place before Otonashi's arrival in the afterlife. Do not worry though, for all of the characters that we've gotten to know and love in those twelve (or thirteen) episodes will get a chance to shine in this story. Some chapters may coincide with events in the anime, but the stories will eventually diverge.

This story follows the life and afterlife of Ralf Jin Pak, an ingenious engineer who perished in the Second World War. I was inspired by many examples of men who endured seemingly impossible hardships in order to push the boundaries of science. I was influenced by Miyazaki's _The Wind Rises_ as well as real historical characters such as Sergei Korolev and Andrei Tupolev (Soviet aeronautical engineers). But in addition to being an engineer and scientist, Pak is also a cunning political leader with questionable goals. This darker side of his personality was inspired by Light Yagami (from _Death Note_) and Raskolnikov (from _Crime and Punishment_). The first few chapters are narrated by Pak, but not all the chapters are told from his point of view. Some chapters also contain narratives from multiple characters as well as flashbacks. I'll try to state the narrator and chorology of the chapter at the very beginning, in order to avoid confusion.

Throughout the story, I've incorporated bits and pieces of my other passions: history and science. I realize that not all of the references may be familiar to the reader. I've added a "Jargon Dictionary" to the end of each chapter to guide you through the quagmire of obscure references. However, if you stumble upon a reference that you do not understand, please let me know. I'll try to add an explanation as soon as possible.

I've read the fanfictions written by Furiouswind and was inspired by his style. (Thanks, man. You're awesome!) I've also (poorly) drawn out my character on my DeviantArt account to help you guys visualize the characters. You can just search my name on DeviantArt; it's also Dima02. You can also use the following link (add the http yourself and change the words in parentheses into actual symbols):

Fav.

me/

d8do90o

(Update: You can also Google Jin Ralf Pak on Google Images. His photo should be the first to show up. It's the picture with the SSS emblem in the background.)

You can read a little about the background of the character on the DeviantArt page. I may or may not add more biographical information about him on my DeviantArt account, so there could be spoilers on that website. You may also find drawings of other OCs in the story and their biographical information. I've copied the all the spoiler-free parts of Jin Ralf Pak's description into the rest of the chapter.

I'm also welcoming you guys to submit your own characters and include them in this fanfiction. Please use the link on my profile page titled _Creating Your OC_. Please include some basic information about your character and a brief description of the character's personality, skills, and perks. The description does not have to be extremely detailed, but more detailed descriptions will definitely enhance the chances of your character being selected. However, for the purpose of providing a cohesive story, I have to reserve the final say in how your character acts throughout the story, although I will try my best to keep their actions true to their personalities. Using the forum, we can discuss how we should coordinate the actions of your OCs and how they should relate to other OCs. Also, this may be a bit of a spoiler (so skip the rest of the paragraph if you do not want the plot to be spoiled), but your OCs do not have to have Japanese names. In fact, if you could give your OC a Korean, Chinese, Russian, or even English name, that'd be great! Your OCs also do not need to be fully human. I'm planning to add some catgirls (the Nekopara kind), bunnygirls (the Rabi Rabi kind), and other hybrids in later chapters. Mystical characters like vampires and mages are off-limits for now. Also, I'd really appreciate it if you could leave your OC's descriptions as a review in the comments section after his/her personality traits and background have been finalized. This can help the readers keep track of the OCs.

This story was conceived before the release of the _Angel Beats_ visual novels. The visual novels are likely to contain information not available to me at the time of writing. As such, some elements of my story may become non-canon. However, I'm trying my best to minimize contradictions and inconsistencies between the anime and this story.

My story will be darker in nature than the anime. Some of the descriptions may be somewhat graphic, for there will be a lot of fighting. Additionally, I'm planning to include some historical political figures in my story, so the story may carry some political undertones. This story is not intended an endorsement or condemnation of any political movement or party. I only seek to condemn violence and extremism while highlighting the value of cooperation, trust, compromise and pragmatism. Regardless of your own political orientation or nationality, you should be able to enjoy the story.

The vast majority of the story will be in English, but there may occasionally be phrases from other languages. As I do not speak most of the languages that are used in the story, I cannot verify the accuracy of some of the translations. (Google Translate, unfortunately, is imperfect). If you spot any errors, please provide me with the correct translation. The ideal story should be collaborative and evolving.

The story itself starts in the next chapter. The rest of this chapter is dedicated to character descriptions. I do not own _Angel Beats_. _Angel Beats _is property of Jun Maeda, ASCII Media Works, P.A. Works and is licensed by Sentai Filmworks. Please support the official release.

So, without further ado, please, sit back and enjoy this story! And be sure to add it to your favorites and/or leave a review!

* * *

**Character Descriptions:**

**Name:** Ralf Jin Pak (박진/朴晉/パク・ジン)

Ralf Jin Pak is leader of the Saenuri Commonwealth and the main character in _Twenty-One Guns_. An engineering genius and brilliant polymath, Pak possesses extensive knowledge in science, literature, politics, and history. He is also gifted with an eidetic memory, which allows him to recite volumes of famous literary works from memory. Pak is also fluent in seven languages and can recreate virtually all weapons built during World War II.

Born in a small village on Sakhalin Island, Ralf proved himself to be an exceptional student and went on to attend school in Korea, China and the Soviet Union. He was later sent to study in Germany, receiving an honorary doctorate from Munich Technical College at age 18. He was involved in the development of many of Germany's most fearsome war machines, including the Me-262 jet fighter and the V-1 buzz bomb.

Ralf arrives in the afterlife with autobiographical memory loss, unable to recall details about his personal life. However, his semantic memory is unaffected. He begins to work in the Guild, where his knowledge of weaponry is used to produce heavy weapons and equipment, including tanks and warplanes.

Heavily influenced by Marxist ideology, Ralf believes that those in the afterlife should seek to build a utopian society within the afterlife realm. He establishes the Saenuri Commonwealth, a nation of "complete selflessness and unerring good." However, Ralf's ideological beliefs clash strongly with those of Otonashi and Kanade, who want people to cope with their pasts and move on.

**Born:** July 24, 1925

Tomarioru, Karafuto Prefecture, Empire of Japan

(Modern Tomari, Sakhalin Oblast, Russian Federation)

**Died:** July 23, 1944 (age 18)

Kaarst, Düsseldorf Gaue, German Reich

(Modern Kaarst, North Rhine-Westphalia, Federal Republic of Germany)

**Education: **Munich Technical College

**Ordinance Weapons:**

Panzerbüchse 39 anti-tank rifle

MP 40 submachine gun

Walther P38 semi-automatic pistol

Gerber Mark II fighting knife

**Mechanized Weapons:**

Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen light utility vehicle

Panzerkampfwagen V Panther medium tank

Messerschmitt Bf 109G-10 fighter

Ilyushin Il-2 Strumovik ground-attack aircraft

**Appearance:**

Ralf Pak is a young male with curly red hair and brownish eyes. Afflicted with Marfan Syndrome, he towers in at 1.98m (6 feet 6 inches) while weighing merely 70.0kg (154lb). His most striking facial features are the eyepatch over his right eye and the prominent scar running down his right cheek. His scar, eyepatch, and height cause many people mistake him for a delinquent or gangster, although he is usually polite and soft-spoken.

Pak is a Korean-Chinese-Russian mix, and he displays characteristics of all three ethnicities. His hair is a dark red color, a trait inherited from his Russian grandfather. His facial features, however, look Korean, and it was said that he strongly resembles his Korean father. Despite all his scars, many girls consider him to be quite handsome due to his "bad boy" looks.

In his youth, Pak suffered egregiously from malnutrition and disease. He is very thin and bony as a result. His left leg is atrophied and malformed due to a childhood polio infection, although the defect is not noticeable under normal clothing and does not affect his mobility. He has numerous scars across his body from fights and accidents. His hands and forearms also bear extensive burn marks due to a chemical explosion.

His usual attire consists of either the standard SSS uniform or in a modified Luftwaffe uniform. He typically keeps a Walther P38 pistol in a hidden holster underneath his jacket in case of emergencies.

**Personality:**

Due to his background, Pak is headstrong and determined. He is used to a life of hardship and can endure a great amount of both physical and mental strain. He has high standards for himself and those with whom he works. He is typically reserved, not letting his emotions get in the way of his work. However, he is also prone to bouts of anger when things don't go the way he plans. When under extremely high stress, he sometimes enters a drug-induced, trance-like fury, stunning allies and opponents alike.

As he devoted a large portion of his life towards the pursuit of knowledge, he is very intelligent and well-versed in both science and art. He prefers a "by-the-book" approach to most problems and is quick to respond to changing conditions. He is also very charismatic, thanks to his ability to quote directly from classic literature and political speeches.

Pak possess very strong philosophical beliefs: beliefs that define both his actions and his motivations. The most notable is his complete and utter obsession with socialism and utopianism. Unlike many other socialist thinkers, however, Pak does not emphasize hatred of the upper classes but instead emphasizes unity and brotherhood. He primarily sees socialism as a socio-political objective and does not have much interest in major economic reforms.

Many report that Pak's unusual and conflicting positions and mannerisms are almost schizophrenic in nature. In public appearances, Pak appears as a strong, confident, and bold leader. In private, he is more laid back and polite. At times, he staunchly supports his version of socialism against all opponents, while at other times, he could be conciliatory and eager to find moderate and peaceful solutions. At all times, however, he demonstrates elements of paranoia, even to close friends. He is particularly distrustful of modern communications technology and rarely uses it for serious matters.

Despite his preoccupation with creating perfect machines and societies, Pak is very proud and protective of his humanity, which he defines as his willpower and "soul". During one battle, he rejects the temptation to use Angel Player to augment his own abilities and ensure success, even when he is on the verge of defeat. It is this pride that leads to Pak's hatred of Kanade, who he views as a monster for sacrificing her humanity for power.

**Quotes:**

"The poor man who takes property by force is called a thief, but the creditor who can by legislation make a debtor pay a dollar twice as large as he borrowed is lauded as the friend of a business. The man who wants the people to destroy the Government is an anarchist, but the man who wants the Government to destroy the people is a patriot."

"Destiny is not a matter of chance; it is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for; it is a thing to be achieved."

"Terror is only justice: prompt, severe and inflexible; it is then an emanation of virtue; it is less a distinct principle than a natural consequence of the general principle of democracy, applied to the most pressing wants of the people."


	2. Mute and Inglorious

**Chapter 1: Mute and Inglorious (Pak)**

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

I was travelling through the Valley of Death, but I feared no evil. I was at 2000 feet and climbing. I was in the realm of god.

But then, everything ended. I was thrown from the sky in a hail of bullets.

I was sure all that'd be left of me was a splatter of bones and flesh. A bloody indistinguishable smear on the grass. By all logic, at the speed I was falling, that's what should have happened.

But it didn't.

* * *

My name is Ralf Jin Pak, and I am dead. There is no doubt whatsoever about that. The death certificate was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and my company commander. Two farmers and a priest buried my body under an elm tree in the sleepy little town of Kaarst, Germany. There were no ceremonial processions or eulogies or music; I was merely tossed into a hole in the ground and forgotten. No one showed up to mourn my passing, for I died as I had lived—mute and inglorious.

I fell on the night of Saturday, July 23rd, 1944—the day before my 19th birthday. The date also marked the seventh anniversary of my arrival in Europe. I had come pretty far in those seven years. I rose from a humble student to one of the youngest aircraft designers in Germany. I was the protégé of none other than Willy Messerschmitt himself. My projects ranged from improving the Me-410 heavy fighter to developing the new Me-262 interceptor. I had a bright path ahead of me, but none of that matters now. I lost everything when I fell.

* * *

I opened my eyes. I was laying under a picturesque night sky. Everything was eerily calm. There were no bursts of flak or searchlights or vapor trails from enemy aircraft. All I could see were stars and a few clouds lazily floating across the dark sky.

What was I doing here? How did I survive?

I sat up, expecting to see the burning wreckage of a Fieseler Fi-156 Stork scattered all around me. I saw nothing. Nothing except some trees and shrubs lit by the moonlight. What happened? Had someone dragged me away from the wreckage?

The smell of smoke and gasoline fumes continued to linger in my nostrils, and I was still nauseous and dizzy from the spiraling fall. I pressed my temples, trying to ease away the pain. I couldn't really remember the last few seconds of my fateful flight, but I could remember just how much I feared for my life. The right wing was on fire, and one horizontal stabilizer was missing. I was doing everything I could to save the wounded aircraft, but nothing seemed to work. My life flashed before my eyes. The last thing I could remember was the ground looming towards me. After that, there was only darkness.

I had no idea how I survived the crash without any injuries. Maybe I had somehow managed to regain control and crash-land the plane at the last second. Maybe some branches and trees broke my fall. Or maybe, just maybe… there really was someone watching over me. But regardless, my survival was a true miracle. I swore to myself that I'd never try to fly again—at least not until the end of the war.

I drew a deep breath and leaned against a tree, trying to get my bearings. I looked down and saw that I was dressed in some kind of uniform. It wasn't my Luftwaffe uniform though; it looked like something that schoolboys wore in China and Japan. I couldn't recall ever seeing them; maybe the person who rescued me also gave me a new set of clothes.

"Hello? Hilfe! Is anyone here? Kann jemand mir helfen?" I shouted at the top of my lungs. There was not a single soul around. At first, everything was quiet. The only sound was the chirping of cicadas. But then, I heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps. Rescue was finally here.

"Stop shouting. You'll give away our position." A female voice whispered in Japanese. A young girl emerged from behind one of the trees. She put her index finger to her lips, making the gesture to stay quiet. She then stuck out her other hand and gestured me to follow her.

I tilted my head and squinted at the girl standing before me. I was still in Germany, wasn't I? Why did she use Japanese?

There was a long pause. The girl tapped her foot impatiently. "Well, are you coming or not?" she whispered again. "You do speak Japanese, don't you?" The girl let out a quick sigh and slowly walked towards me. The moonlight began to illuminate her face. It was hard to tell that she was Japanese. She was dressed in a Japanese sailor fuku but had magenta-colored hair and green eyes. It was rare to see other Asians in Germany. There was a handful of Japanese engineers and students studying in the universities, but most of them were male. I hadn't seen an Asian girl in years. She was quite pretty too. She looked to be right around my age. Her posture and movements were graceful and spritely, but her expression was dead serious, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

I struggled to recall the Japanese I learned back on Sakhalin Island. "Yes, Fraulein. My name is Ralf Jin Pak. My plane was shot down. Have you seen my plane?"

"There is no plane," she replied calmly, "And you're dead. You're in the afterlife."

What? Did I hear her correctly? Afterlife? Was I really dead? I didn't feel dead; I felt fine. I couldn't possibly be dead, could I? I could still feel the cold tree trunk behind me and the cool breeze on my face. I was eighteen; I was at my physical prime. It takes more than a simple fall to kill someone like me. No, I wasn't dead. It was all a misunderstanding. I just needed to brush up on my Japanese; I just misheard her. That was all.

"Sorry, Fraulein, uh…" I scratched my head, struggling to find the right words, "Could you please tell me where I am?"

"You are _dead_. This is the afterlife."

I heard correctly this time. I fell silent. I remember it all too clearly—my plane, the de Havilland Mosquito, the stream of bullets, and the spiraling fall. I felt dizzy just thinking about it. No one could survive a fall from that height. But then again, miracles do happen, right? And plus, if I were dead, I'd know, right?

The magenta-haired girl continued to glance at me coldly. She crossed her arms and tapped her feet impatiently. Finally, she broke the silence, "I'm Yuri Nakamura—the leader of the Not-Dead-Yet Battlefront, the SSS. I know this sounds sudden, but could you please join up with us?" She extended her hand in a gesture of friendship.

I was hesitant to shake her hand. My mind struggled to comprehend. "I'm sorry. I'm a little confused here. Am I really dead? I don't understand what's going on," I replied weakly. Thoughts rushed through my head. I couldn't think. My vision became blurry. What if I were really dead? What's going to happen to my family? My friends? My entire life? Was it all gone now? No, my life wasn't great; it wasn't good at all. But it was still my life. Was it over? Had everything I've known simply terminated? What if I were really dead?

Yuri rolled her eyes a little. "Look, how many times do I have to tell you? You really are dead. This is the afterlife. Would you like me to prove it to you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Please do."

I saw a mischievous smile slowly spread across her face. She did look cute though, with a smile like that. However, my delight soon turned to horror. Before I knew it, I was staring down the barrel of a pistol.

"I can shoot you in the head and you won't die. Want to test it out?" I froze in horror. The pistol was pointed right between my eyes. My muscles tensed up; sweat dripped down the side of my face. How could anyone say something like that so calmly? Was she crazy?

"Nein! Oh Hölle nein!" I screamed, backing away from the psychopath in front of me. "Verpiss dich." Everything was just a blur. My instincts kicked in. I hit her in the wrist, hoping to knock the pistol out of her hand. Fortunately, I did manage to catch her off-guard. The pistol hit the dirt with a resounding crack. I turned as fast as I could and ran off in the opposite direction, doing everything I could to get away from the.

"Wait, come back. I won't shoot. I promise," she screamed. The girl was insane, no doubt. I had to get away from her. I didn't know where to go, so I just took off into the woods.

"Hilfe! Hilfe! Sie versucht, mich zu erschießen!" I called out for help, waving my arms around like a maniac. Fortunately, Yuri did not open fire. I did not know whether or not she pursued me; I was too scared to look back. I ran deeper into the woods, trying to escape from that psychopath Yuri. I did manage to put some distance between us, and the darkness and trees prevented her from seeing me. But unfortunately, the darkness also prevented me from seeing the path ahead. The fact that I only had one functioning eye didn't exactly help either. I stumbled over a tree stump and fell hard onto the ground. I felt a sharp pain in my right ankle. I knew that it was sprained. This was terrible timing.

Fortunately, I managed to make my way to the edge of the forest. I found a dirt path and followed it to the closest building. It was a large building with a brick façade. There was still a light shining through one of the windows, and I could faintly make out the figure of a person inside. I didn't have enough time to think or go over my options. I limped inside and entered that room.

The room was a classroom. There was a large blackboard and several smaller tables arranged in neat little rows. At the back of the room was a young girl, probably around 15 or 16. She was short, with long white hair. Her golden eyes widened a little when she saw me, but her face remained surprisingly emotionless.

"Hilf mir, mein Fräulein, gibt es ein Mädchen… das versucht, mich zu töten!" I pleaded. My voice was still hoarse from all the running. I repeated myself, but she didn't seem to understand me.

"Sorry. What was that?" She asked in Japanese. She had a calm, low voice. Unhuman almost. But that was of secondary concern; at least she seemed sane.

"There's a girl out there trying to shoot me," I replied, still struggling for breath, "She's crazy. She keeps on telling me that I'm in the afterlife."

"But you really are dead. This is the afterlife." She replied in the same voice. Her expression didn't change either. Maybe she was crazy too. Meeting two crazy Japanese girls in one day—what were the odds? Was I in some mental asylum? Maybe the two were related somehow. I considered running out of the room to get more help, but my ankle was still in pain. And if this actually was a mental institution, the wisest thing to do was to wait until the doctors or guards arrived. Maybe I should just rest and find out more.

I closed the door and turned off the lights, hoping that Yuri wouldn't find me. I then grabbed a nearby chair and sat down by the wall, trying to take the pressure off of my ankle.

"So who's in charge here?" I asked.

"I am," she replied, standing up from her chair, "I'm the Student Body President." She slowly walked towards me. She seemed to glide across the ground, like a ghost or specter.

"Well, if this is the afterlife, prove it. Prove that I'm dead. Prove that I can't die." I wasn't really paying attention to my words. I was too busy trying to check the condition of my foot; the pain was excruciating.

"Very well then," the petite girl replied, "Hand Sonic, version one."

"Huh?"

Two bright blades materialized from her wrists. The glow from the blades illuminated the room with a faint blue light. I was stunned. It was impossible. How could something just materialize out of the air like that? It was sorcery. There was no logical explanation.

But before I could say anything, the girl rushed at me at an incredible speed. To my horror, I realized that one of the blades was pointed right at me. I tried to run, but my ankle sprained ankle prevented me from doing so. I was pinned against the wall. I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

The cold metal blade entered my ribcage, just below my heart. Just the force alone was enough to break my bones. I heard the sickening crunch of breaking bones and the felt the searing pain as the blade penetrated my ribs. The last thing I could remember was falling backwards and hitting my head on the wall. I blacked out.

* * *

**Jargon Dictionary:**

**Messerschmitt Me 410 Hornisse (Hornet)**

Hitler's favorite bomber destroyer, the Messerschmitt Me 410 was a heavy fighter/fast bomber employed by the Luftwaffe. It entered service in 1943, making it a relatively new aircraft. It proved to be a flexible platform, serving in roles varying from reconnaissance to bomber interception. These planes saw much success against unprotected Allied bomber formations, but their effectiveness decreased as the Allies developed newer tactics and fighters.

**Messerschmitt Me 262 Schwalbe (Swallow)**

The Messerschmitt Me 262 holds the distinction of the world's first operational jet fighter. Capable of speeds up to 556 miles per hour, the jet was faster than anything the Allied Powers possessed at the time. The jet was also heavily armed with four 30mm cannons, making it a highly dangerous adversary. Despite Allied air superiority towards the end of the war, the outnumbered Me-262 still managed to achieve an excellent 5:1 kill-loss ratio.

**Fieseler Fi 156 Storch (Stork)**

The simple yet ingenious Fieseler Fi 156 was a small utility aircraft employed by the Germans on both the Western and Eastern fronts. The aircraft was widely used for communications, medical evacuations, and reconnaissance. The plane was noted for its exceptionally short take-off and landing distances, which allowed it to operate from small makeshift airfields. When flown into a strong headwind, the Fi 156 can actually fly backwards.

**De Havilland DH.98 Mosquito (The author's favorite)**

Nicknamed the "Wooden Wonder", the British De Havilland DH.98 Mosquito was one of the most successful aircraft of World War II. The plane was a true "multirole" platform, successfully serving in tasks ranging from night fighting to tactical bombing. Made almost entirely out of wood, the plane was very fast and difficult to detect by radar. The plane was so elusive and devastating to the German night fighter force that Hermann Goring awarded German pilots two victories for shooting one down.


	3. Viennese Coffee

**Chapter 2: Viennese Coffee (Pak)**

I bolted upright, gasping for air. Was it all a bad dream?

My hands frantically searched across my chest. Nothing. I looked down. My torso was covered in old scars, but they were noticeably absent where the Student Body President stabbed me. I tried rotating my right ankle, but there was no pain. I felt relieved. Maybe it was a dream after all.

But as I sat up, my right arm brushed up against something—something wet. I turned and looked. There was a white shirt drenched in blood. I slowly picked it up. There was a large cut on the front and an even larger gash on the back. The back was still dripping with blood. The cut perfectly matched the place where the white-haired girl stabbed me. I could barely keep myself from vomiting.

So it wasn't a dream. But how was I still alive? I suddenly recalled what Yuri told me—no one can die in the afterlife. Maybe I was dead. But then again, maybe I was just lucky. Maybe it was all just a dream. Maybe the shirt belonged to someone else.

"I have to get out of here," I muttered to myself. There were still people trying to kill me. The sad irony was that it did not matter whether or not I was dreaming. Murderers chased me in my dreams, and British fighter-bombers and paratroopers chased me outside of them.

I got out of bed and checked my surroundings. It was morning outside; I could hear the birds chirping in the trees. The songs of skylarks were especially soothing. I saw some people walking and chatting in the distance. They all wore similar uniforms. Based on their age and dress, I reasoned that they were probably high school students coming to school.

I looked around the room. It seemed to be a school infirmary of some sort. There were still some boxes labelled with the Red Cross symbol. It was strangely reassuring to find something familiar. There were also some posters and books about public health and sanitation—again, all in Japanese.

I had the room all to myself, so I decided to scavenge the area for something useful. There was a set of clothes in one of the closets. It was the uniform similar to the one I wore yesterday. I put on the new clothes, adjusted my hair, and took off my eyepatch. I figured that my best option was to climb out the window and blend in with the other students. I also decided to bring along a large glass bottle of rubbing alcohol. Maybe if I were lucky, I could find the materials to make a good Molotov cocktail. I wasn't sure if Yuri and the Student Body President were real or just characters in my dream, but I didn't want to take any risks. The bottle was no use against a gun, but if the President tried to stab me again, I could at least have something to defend myself.

I tried to move as silently as possible, but I've always been somewhat clumsy. I accidentally brushed against a bookshelf. Some folders fell from the top shelf, barely missing my feet. They hit the ground with a loud bang.

The door, seemingly on cue, slid open. I clutched the glass bottle in my right hand, ready to face off against the assailants.

"So you're finally awake!" a familiar voice proclaimed, "Hope you enjoyed your nap."

It was Yuri Nakamura's voice. She strolled inside the room, with a confidant grin on her face. She was wearing the same sailor fuku uniform, but this time with a white beret cap. And she wasn't alone either. She was flanked by two large males, who acted like her bodyguards. Both wore crème-colored business suits. The one on the left was about my height. He adjusted his glasses and looked at me stoically. I knew some taekwondo. And with some luck, I might have been able to take him down. The other, however, was much bigger. He had the build of Max Schmeling. He folded his arms across his chest, as if preparing for a fight.

I raised the bottle over my head, threatening to throw it. Neither of the males, however, showed any sign of fear or trepidation. The guy with glasses pulled Yuri to the ground. The big guy charged at me in a straight line. I had expected him go around the two beds in front of me, but he just leapt across them.

"You want to die, you damn Cyclops?" he shouted as he hurled through the air. I tried to whack him on the head with the bottle, but he anticipated the move and grabbed my arm. There was nothing I could do. I was thrown off my feet and tackled to the ground. I heard the bottle shatter a moment later.

"He's down, Yurippe!" I heard the big guy yell. He had me pinned down on my stomach. My arm was twisted at a painful angle. He was a judo master, no doubt. I could hardly breathe, let along move my limbs.

"Nice work, Matsushita the Fifth," Yuri complemented. I heard two people's footsteps coming towards me. There was nothing I could do to stop it. That Matsushita guy had me pinned.

Soon, Yuri came into view. She stood right above me, with her hands on her hips. She was so close that I could see up the white panties under her skirt. She had a triumphant smile on her face. I just turned away in disgust.

She grabbed my chin and tilted my head in her direction. She was squatting down now. "Listen, Pak," she said, "We're here to help you. I'm not going to shoot you, I promise." Her look was more serious, and her voice changed to match her mood.

I said nothing. There was a long silence.

"We won't harm you. I promise. We're on your side."

"Prove it then," I grunted. It was very hard to breathe and talk. My ribcage was threatening to cave in. "For starters, you can stop trying to crush me."

"Matsushita, let him go."

"But Yurippe, he'll…"

"Just do it."

I felt the pressure being lifted off of me. Yuri extended her hand, offering to help me get off the ground. I rejected the offer, resisting the temptation to spit at her face.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, trying to catch my breath.

"We want you to join the Afterlife Battlefront."

"I thought that it was the Not-Yet-Dead Battlefront."

"Yeah. We change our name a lot. We can never seem to agree on one name."

"And if I refuse?"

"You'll get obliterated if you don't fight Tenshi."

"Who's the Angel?"

"The girl you ran into yesterday. The one who stabbed you. White hair. Short. Golden eyes. She calls herself the Student Body President."

It all came back to me. I recalled everything that happened the night before. She was the one who stabbed me, not Yuri. Yuri probably could have easily shot me while I was running away, but she didn't. She didn't even try. Angel was the enemy, not Yuri. I felt bad for treating her so badly earlier, but I reminded myself that I couldn't trust her either.

"You know," Yuri continued, "If it weren't for us, you probably would have been obliterated yesterday. We found you right after she stabbed you and took you here to recover."

I looked down in embarrassment. "Um… thanks," I muttered, hating myself for my previous behavior, "I'm sorry about what just happened. I really am."

"Does this mean that you'll join us?" Yurippe asked. She extended her hand a third time. She seemed to cheer up a bit.

I did not hesitate this time. Angel was my enemy. Anyone who tried to stab me was the enemy. No one had the right to "obliterate" me; no one has the right to take my life away from me. I still wasn't sure what Yuri meant by "obliterated", and I still found it hard to accept my death. But I had to befriend her before getting any answers.

"Count me in. I will do everything I can to ensure the elimination of our enemy," I grabbed her hand and gave her a firm handshake. "My honor is loyalty, Yuri."

The smile on her face couldn't be bigger. She laughed. "The Afterlife Battlefront is happy to have go-getters like you on our side. Welcome to the Afterlife Battlefront, Ralf Pak. We are rebels against the god. Welcome to our rebellion."

For the first time in forever, I felt an abstract sense of happiness. I felt like I've found a new family—a new goal in life. A common goal. I was a part of something wonderful. I looked around. Both the guy with glasses and Matsushita were smiling.

"I still have a few questions though," I said, "I'm afraid I'm very new here."

"Let's talk over some coffee," Yurippe suggested, "You Europeans like coffee, right?"

"Coffee? I love coffee," I responded. I haven't had any in so long. Coffee was a luxury in Germany, especially during the war. The idea that I would be able to enjoy a nice cup of coffee was so refreshing, especially after all I went through.

I couldn't help but laugh a little, recalling the events of the day. Just a few minutes ago, I thought that my life was going to end. I thought that it was all over. But in the course of three mere minutes, my enemies became my friends. Not just friends, but also comrades. Comrades allied in a fight against Angel.

I laughed. Lady fortune was one my side. I was going to enjoy a nice cup of coffee with one of the cutest girls I've met. Her friends seemed like really nice people too. My luck was finally starting to turn.

A minutes later, I found myself in what seemed to be the school cafeteria. The place was huge. It was as big as a large aircraft hangar, and it looked like one too, with a steel frame and a curved ceiling. My Viennese coffee arrived, far more impressive than I had imagined—superb, delicious, and accompanied by three honey biscuits. I started at it in fascination for a long while, until I finally dared to pick up the long-handled spoon and, with a sign of ecstasy, plunge it into the cream. My mouth was watering. I glanced over at Yurippe, who looked at me curiously, clearly amused by my fascination with coffee. I smiled. I wanted to make this moment last as long as possible, to stretch it all the way to eternity.

The guy with glasses came back with a can of Coca-Cola. "I'm Takamatsu," he introduced himself, opening the bottle of soda, "We'd all like to know more about you and your skills. Where are you from, Pak?"

"I work and went to school in Munich, but I was born in a rural village in Karafuto Prefecture," I answered, "The village was named…"

The village. Crap. What was its name? I couldn't remember. I knew that I hailed from Sakhalin Island, but what was the name of that village? It was a coal-mining town, but what was the name? Why couldn't I seem to remember anything from my childhood?

"I can't seem to remember the specific village…" I continued, my voice trailing, "I must have hit my head at some point." Crap, did I have amnesia too?

"Amnesia is quite common here," Takamatsu reassured me, "Many of us hit our heads before dying." He nonchalantly took a sip from his can and scribbled down something on a clipboard.

I scratched my head in confusion. My recollections of my personal life were very vague. I had two sisters—one older and one younger. Father worked in the coal mines, and Mother was a factory worker. I could remember their faces, but not their names. I couldn't even recall the name of my school or the names of my friends. My memories about Germany were a little clearer, and I could remember the names of most of my superiors. Come to think of it, which one of my superiors ordered me to fly that night? I was not a certified pilot, and I had no training in night operations. Flying alone at night was suicidal, especially with all the British night-fighters that prowled the area. The person who ordered the mission must have been extremely desperate or reckless. But why? Which one of my commanders made such a rash decision? And why did I not point it out?

I hit my hand against the side of my head, trying to restart my mind. What could I still remember? Let's see. The Messerschmitt Me-410. It had a length of 12.4 meters and a wingspan of 16.39 meters. It was powered by two Daimler-Benz DB 603A V12 engines. The top speed was around 620 kilometers per hour, about 45 km/h faster than the Soviet LaGG-3 fighter. I could still remember all the technical details about my projects. I just couldn't remember much about myself.

"Sorry guys," I apologized, "I probably did hit my head. My memories are really spotty."

"It's alright," Matsushita reassured me, "You're not the only one. Some of our members can't even remember their names." But now that Matsushita mentioned it, my name did sound a little strange. My German name was Ralf, without a doubt, and my family name was certainly Pak. But I was less certain about my Korean name: Jin. I couldn't recall ever being called that, at least not prior to my arrival in Europe. Was Jin just a nickname? Jin Pak. Advancing modesty. It had a nice ring to it. I've read about a Korean Imjin War general with the same name, and I knew that it was a real, if not generic, name. But was it my given name? And why would someone name their child "advancing modesty"?

"You said that you were from Karafuto Prefecture? Karafuto Prefecture was formally dissolved on June 1, 1949," Takamatsu resumed the conversation, "The entire Sakhalin Island became Soviet territory."

My heart seemed to skip a beat. I had a bubbly feeling inside of me. Was I happy? Why did I feel so happy all of a sudden? I hadn't been in Karafuto Prefecture in years. Why was I so happy that the Soviets unified the island? Did I have a lot of Russian friends? My mother was a Russian-Chinese mix; that's how I ended up with this weird reddish hair. She taught me both languages, but I couldn't recall any economic ties with the Soviets. Was it because of political allegiances? Heck, what were my political views? I had always hated the Nazis, but I couldn't remember anything else. Have I forgotten my political beliefs as well?

"Takamatsu seems smart, but he's actually stupid," Yurippe chirped in, breaking the silence.

I snapped out of my psychological panic. My head started to hurt a little bit. Maybe I should just stop thinking about my past. It'll all come back to me eventually. Victims of post-traumatic amnesia usually recover their memories. It just takes time.

It was time for a mental coffee break, I thought to myself. I just needed to calm down and take a few deep breaths. My memories were going to come back to me eventually.

"So do you still remember your date of death?" Matsushita asked, sipping from a comically large bowl of udon.

"It was the night of July 23rd, 1944. My plane was shot down over Dusseldorf by the Royal Air Force."

"I see," Takamatsu replied, adjusting his glasses. There was a short pause, "So you worked with the Luftwaffe?"

I tilted my head slightly. "A little. I worked for Messerschmitt officially, although I routinely worked alongside Luftwaffe personnel and engineers from other design bureaus. I was mostly involved with Messerschmitt designs."

Takamatsu nodded once. He then turned to Yurippe and whispered something into her ear. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I did see Yurippe nod a few times.

"Welcome to 2010, Pak," Matsushita proclaimed, louder than usual. I could tell that he was just trying to prevent me from hearing the conversation between Yurippe and Takamatsu. "Most of our members are from the 21st century, but we do get a few strays ever now and then. There's this one girl in our Battlefront. Her name is Shiina Eri. He was a female ninja in feudal Japan. She makes us seem a hundred men stronger."

So I was not only in the afterlife but also in the future? Incredible. I looked around. The future sure was a lot more… futuristic, I guess. (I'm an engineer, not a poet; quit judging me). I was impressed with the technological progress. I've read about fluorescent lighting in magazines, but I had never seen one before. Here, in this school, fluorescent lights were everywhere. Why didn't I notice that before? A lot of the students and teachers carried around hand-held screens that served as both radios and televisions. I was very anxious to learn how those things worked. I studied quite a bit of electrical engineering, and I had great hopes for future technologies. However, the screen that these students were using were beyond my wildest dreams.

"Pak," Yuri interrupted, snapping her fingers, "There's a place we would like to show you. I think that you will be very interested."

"Meet us at the Principal's Office after school. We've circled the location on the map," Takamatsu added. He handed me a map of the schoolyard, "The password is 'No god. No Buddha. No angels.'" I quickly jot down the password on the paper.

"Your class schedule and backpack have been already prepared," Yurippe added, handing me a backpack and another slip of paper, "Take the time to catch up on modern history and technology. Oh, and try not to act like a model student. People get obliterated for doing that."

"And don't mind these other students too much," Takamatsu added, "They're not human like us. They're non-player characters."

As if on cue, a loud mechanical beep rang out on the school speaking system. The students around me started to file out of the room. "That's the alarm bell," Matsushita informed me, "You have five minutes to get to class."

I slung the backpack on my shoulder, bid farewell to my three mentors, and joined the columns of students filing out of the cafeteria. I still had many questions on my mind. What did Yurippe mean by "obliterated"? What was the mission of the SSS? And was the Student Body President actually an angel? There were so many questions that still needed to be answered.

But I had to push those thoughts out of my head. I had to concentrate on my studies. I was anxious to learn about the latter 20th century and all its technological developments. It was a good time for me to catch up on world events. I might even be able to use the newest technologies in my future airplane designs.

I still wanted my memories back, but I was okay without them. I couldn't remember many details about my previous life, but I do remember that it was a very painful and grim existence. The war was terrible for everyone. Millions were dying on the battlefields, and so much material was being wasted on pointless destruction. No one was safe. The afterlife, in contrast, was so calm. For the most part, the students around me seemed cordial; I was easily able to strike conversations with some of them. I didn't have to deal with abrasive coworkers or worry about enemy air raids. Heck, I didn't even have to worry about death! I had a nice group of friends and cheap coffee to boot. I was starting to enjoy my new existence.

* * *

**Jargon Dictionary:**

**Max Schmeling (1905 – 2005)**

Maximillian Adolph Otto Siegfried Schmeling was a famous German boxer who held the title of the heavyweight champion of the world between 1930 and 1932. In Germany, he was viewed as a hero, and the Nazis promoted him as the paradigm of German supremacy over the rest of the world. However, he was defeated by Joe Louis in 1938. He served as an elite paratrooper during the WWII but was discharged after a knee injury suffered at the Battle of Crete. He later campaigned for better treatment of Allied POWs and helped hide Jewish children from the Nazis.

**Karafuto Prefecture**

Also known as South Sakhalin, Karafuto Prefecture was the Imperial Japanese administrative division responsible for governing the southern half of Sakhalin Island, a large island east of Russia. Russia ceded the resource-rich territory to Japan after the Russo-Japanese War, and it became a prefecture in 1907. The prefecture had a population of 406,000 (the size of Oakland, California), which included a considerable number of Koreans forcibly relocated to work in the coal mines and oil fields. Soviet troops invaded the island in August, 1945, and the territory became a part of Russia.

**Düsseldorf**

The majestic city of Düsseldorf is the capital of the German state of North Rhine-phalia. The city, currently home to 11 million, is located near the Dutch border and serves as a major hub for international business and finance. The city now hosts a large Japanese population, although this was not true in Ralf's time. During World War II, the city hosted a large number of factories and oil facilities and was heavily bombed by the Allied forces. The city was liberated in April 1945.

**Gyeongsang General Jin Pak (1520 – 1567)**

Jin Pak (or Park, depending on the Romanization system), was a Korean Joseon Dynasty Army general, who served with distinction in the Imjin War, a 16th century military conflict between Korea and Japan. Initially defeated by the Japanese at the Battle of Miryang, he redeemed his honor in the victories at Yeongcheon and Gyeongju. He was also a charismatic and skilled diplomat, convincing Japanese General Sayaka to defect and surrender his forces. He was killed in 1567, after a Chinese general falsely accused him of disobeying orders.


	4. Wernher von Braun

**Chapter 3: Wernher von Braun (Pak)**

It's a funny thing. I never actually graduated from high school in my previous life. I never received my Mittlere Reife, even though I had already graduated college.

When I was 15, I started taking classes at Munich Technical College. I became intrigued by the newest developments in aviation. The concept was as magnificent as it was daunting. Just a century ago, who would have thought that human beings could fly into the stratosphere? The idea of machinery carrying humans ten miles above the Earth was pure science fiction. And the idea of such machines battling each other at this altitude was sacrilege. The sky was supposed to be the sacred realm of god.

But as time passed, beautiful dreams turned into living nightmares. Machines that were once made to carry passengers and hope were converted to carry weapons of war. Bombs fell from the sky. Airplanes fell too. Humanity fell.

It was just too tragic.

I spent most of my day looking over my world history textbook. I've memorized most of it by the end of the day. The war ended in an Allied victory. Germany capitulated on May 8th, 1945. Japan surrendered on September 2nd, 1945, after the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. After the war, tensions developed between the Soviet Union and America. Korea was split in half, the communists gained power in Eastern Europe and China, and most European colonies in Africa and Asia eventually gained independence. My textbook went on to describe the Cold War and the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991. The events of the 21st century were only mentioned in passing.

For some reason, none of this really surprised me. I hadn't known about the atomic bomb, but people were always looking for quicker ways to kill each other. I was, however, acquainted with Wernher von Braun and his experiments in rocketry. I met him once at a conference at Pennemünde in 1943. We even got to share a few drinks together afterwards. He encouraged me to study National Socialism and to chase me dreams. He seemed to be a friendly and charming fellow, but deep-down, I hated him; I hated his long-range offensive missiles. I hated the idea of strangers killing each other from thousands of miles away. Now, at least according to my textbook, there are tens of thousands of his death devices waiting below the surface, ready for mankind's final day. Humanity has guided missiles and bombs; we have weapons that never fail and never hesitate. We have weapons that never ask and never question. The day when the entire world is destroyed is but a nightmare away. This nightmare became reality because of Wernher von Braun and his lackeys. This nightmare became true because of men like me.

The more I thought about this stuff, the more depressed I felt. Throughout the day, I tried a variety of means to distance myself from the conundrums of philosophy. I tried listening to the teachers, but it was hopeless. Mathematics was a cinch, especially with the new compact hand-held computers known as TI-84s. Those things were so small, and yet they were multitudes more powerful than the best supercomputers during the war. You could draw graphs on them too! If I had one of those things during my time at Messerschmitt, my productivity could have easily improved ten-fold. Germany could have won the war. What impressed me the most, though, were the laptop computers. Like the TI-84 calculators, those things could do complicated mathematical computations in mere seconds. They all had large color screens that could do everything from playing movies to word-processing. It took me a while to figure out how to use those the computers, but their capabilities were unparalleled.

I was less impressed by the developments in chemistry and physics. Newtonian physics was still Newtonian physics. Force still equaled mass times acceleration, and voltage still equaled current times resistance. The ideal gas law was still the ideal gas law, and Le Chatelier's Principle was still Le Chatelier's Principle. The chemistry textbook mentioned that there were some impressive developments in biochemistry, but I cared little for microtubules and the Krebs Cycle.

During Japanese class, though, I was hopelessly lost, as I hadn't used hiragana in years. Maybe it was a blessing since Yurippe told me to not act like a model student. English, on the other hand, was a piece of cake; I was fluent in the language and could recite many of Shakespeare's works from memory. However, the teacher, a limey named Ellen Baker, wasn't too impressed when I handed in essays written in Shakespearean English. I had to endure her slings and arrows of outrageous commentary.

Most of the NPC students were friendly. Some acted as if they've known me for quite a while. Many boys went out and played soccer together during lunch break. They seemed so peaceful and happy, just chatting away about the latest movies, exams and baseball games. There were a few other Koreans in the school as well. They really liked talking about this one "video game" called _Starcraft_ and this genre of music called K-pop. It was pretty catchy stuff, I have to admit, and the girls made me drool. I really wanted to hang out with them after school, but I remembered that I had to go see Yurippe in the principal's office.

The map Takamatsu gave me was pretty clearly marked, but I still had a hard time finding the place. The school was absolutely enormous, and it contained a mind-boggling labyrinth of hallways and corridors more complicated than the mechanics of a Panzerkampfwagen VI Tiger II. But eventually, after numerous dead ends, I finally reached at the destination.

There was another guy ahead of me though. He wore a uniform similar to the ones Takamatsu and Matsushita wore. I figured that he was also a member of the SSS. In contrast to most of the NPCs, this guy looked somewhat… eccentric. He had disheveled purple hair and equally messy attire. He ran forward and pushed the door open. Without any warning, a huge pendulum hammer dropped from the ceiling and crashed into him. He was sent flying window at the end of the hallway. There was a slowly fading scream, which was followed by a dull thud as his body hit the ground.

"Noda is a moron," Yuri emerged out the door, rubbing her temples in frustration.

"This was his own trap too," I heard Takamatsu's voice from the inside of the room, "I'll remind him to reset it after he recovers."

"This is so stupid." Another girl emerged from the doorway. She wore a seifuku like Yuri's, along with a long black scarf. She looked somewhat strange as well. The weather was not cold enough for scarfs, but it could have been just another fashion statement. I've never really cared for that fancy stuff, anyhow.

The scarf girl was the first to notice me. I saw her face twitch slightly when she saw me. And then, she was gone, fading into a dark blur.

I didn't even have time to think. There was a sudden zipping sound. The next thing I knew, I was pinned to the ground. There was a searing pain in my throat. I tried to call for help, but no sound came out. I looked down. There was a 4-inch shuriken lodged deep in the side of my neck. Dark blood oozed out of the wound. I could feel the blood and saliva pooling at the back of my throat as well. I could barely breathe. I was drowning in my own blood.

The girl with the black scarf was standing over me, with her foot pinning my chest to the ground. She held what seemed like a katana, with the tip pointed straight at my trachea.

"Prepare to die, thy dastardly Joseon spy," she said coldly, "Jeong Mun-Bu shall fail: Hamgyong shall fall." Great. After running into one rifle-toting militia leader and one psychotic student body president, I bump into one of Toyotomi Hideyoshi's ninja assassins. What were the odds? I guess I was just really bad at staying alive. Or maybe I was just really unlucky. Or maybe it was the fact that I was facing a real ninja from feudal Japan.

The ninja lifted the blade and flung it down at my neck. I struggled, but to no avail. I couldn't do anything. Couldn't move. Couldn't scream. I could only watch as the tip of the katana rapidly approaching my throat.

"Stop!" Yurippe called out. The ninja reacted instantly. The blade seemed to freeze in midair. "He's one of ours."

The ninja girl froze. She slowly stood up and put her sword back into its scabbard. Yurippe approached me. She flinched and grimaced when she saw my wound.

I sat up, trying to ask for help. The blood that pooled in my throat shifted downwards. I started coughing violently. Blood sprayed into the air. The feeling of the jagged teeth of the shuriken grinding into my flesh made me want to vomit. I watched numbly as the blood from my wound flowed down my shirt and pooled on the ground. It looked like a scene from a macabre horror film. I started to feel faint.

"Sorry, Pak. This might hurt a bit," Yurippe approached me, putting her hand on the shuriken, "Fujimaki? Matsushita? Restrain him." That wasn't not a good start. The two grabbed my arms and held down my legs. I didn't struggle this time. I just gave up trying to fight and focused on chocking back the screams of agony.

Yurippe grabbed the shuriken and played around for a few seconds, reigniting the fire in my neck. She tried to tilt the blade, to no avail. More blood sprayed into the air, but she only managed to sink the shuriken deeper.

"What do we do?" a panicky-looking boy asked, "That blade is pretty deep."

"We could just cut off his head," Fujimaki suggested, "He's gonna die anyway. Might as well make it quick."

Yurippe shook her head. "No, Decapitations take too long to heal. Looks like that we'll just have to wing it."

Without warning, Yurippe yanked the shuriken as hard as she could. The disk was dislodged, but it also ripped a long strip of flesh all the way down to my shoulder. A geyser of blood erupted. My body seized at the unexpected trauma. A loud, unending melody of pain filled the hallway. The last thing I saw before blacking out was the horrified expression on Yurippe's blood-covered face.

* * *

**Jargon Dictionary:**

**Mittlere Reife**

A certificate awarded to students after ten years of schooling in Germany. It's roughly comparable with the American high school diploma or the British GCSE.

**Pennemünde**

The Pennemünde Army Research Center was a German military testing ground operation ground operating from 1936 to 1945. Located on the Baltic Sea island of Usedom, the facility was widely used to test guided missiles and rockets for the German military. It is most closely associated with the infamous V-2 rocket, the world's first long-range ballistic missile and is widely considered to be the birthplace of modern rocketry and space flight.

**Panzerkampfwagen VI Tiger II**

The Tiger II was a heavy tank used by the Germans towards the end of World War II. A successor to the famous Tiger I, it combined thick, sloped armor with a long barreled 88 Kampfwagenkanone 43l/71 gun. The tank was protected by 100 to 180 mm of frontal armor, and its gun was the most powerful anti-tank gun to be put on a tank with a rotatable turret to reach service. The tank's mobility, armor, and armament made it a fearsome opponent. However, the tank suffered a host of reliability problems, which were caused by the complicated and overburdened drivetrain originally designed for a lighter vehicle. The over-engineered tank was also very difficult to manufacture, and fewer than 500 units were produced.

**Jeong Mun-Bu (1565 – 1624)**

Jeong Mun-bu was a Korean statesman and general known for his achievements during the Imjin War. He passed the civil service examination in 1585 and became an officer of the military training department. In 1561, he was appointed to the position of the Bukpyeongsa of Hamgyong Province (in modern-day North Korea), promoting public education. After the Japanese occupied the province in 1562, Jeong formed the Righteous Army. His army of six thousand men defeated the Japanese soldiers in successive victories, eventually forcing the Japanese to retreat. After the war, he was later falsely accused of abetting Park Heung-gu's revolt and put to death. Today, however, he is honored as a war hero, humanitarian, and patriot.

**Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536/1537 – 1598)**

Toyotomi Hideyoshi was a prominent daimyo and statesman of the Sengoku period. He is known for completing the 16th-century unification of Japan. Born into a peasant family, Hideyoshi enlisted as a foot soldier in Oda Nobunaga's army and distinguished himself in combat. In 1573, he overthrew two powerful daimyos to become the lord of Nagahama. After Nobunaga's death in 1582, Hideyoshi took over his army and set out to conquer the other provinces of Japan. His conquests marked the beginning of the Momoyama period. He successfully formed an alliance with Tokugawa Ieyasu and conquered the provinces of Kii, Shikoku, Etchu, and Kyushu. In 1590, he defeated the Late Hojo clan at the Seige of Odawara, thus eliminating the last resistance to his authority and unifying Japan. During his rule, he launched a number of political and cultural reforms that would shape the Japanese political and cultural landscape for centuries to come. However, his attempts (in 1592 and 1597) to conquer China and Korea were unsuccessful, and the Japanese forces withdrew after his death.

* * *

**Closing Skits **

**Pak: **Dima! Why did you kill me again? I've died three already. In two days, no less. How many more times will I have to die throughout the story?!

**Dima: **As many times as I want. What are you going to do about it?

**Pak:** I can't go on like this. My throat is still hurting from Shiina's shuriken. Can't I at least get a weapon to defend myself?

**Dima: **Fine. I'll give you a weapon in the next chapter if agree to read me these fan mail letters. (Hands over a few envelops.)

**Pak (sighs): **Alright. Fine. (Starts to view letters.) A man named C.V. Ford would like to ask why I still wear an eyepatch, even though Yui's paralysis healed in the afterlife. Yeah, Dima. Why do you not give me my eye back? Do you enjoy tormenting me, you little sadist?

**Dima: **A very good question. If you haven't done so already, I would encourage you to go view my own sketch of Pak. Go search "Ralf Jin Pak" on Google Images. It should be the first result. C V Ford asked whether Ralf will get his eye back, since many "previous life" injuries and disabilities, including Yui's paralysis, are "healed" in the afterlife.

It is my theory that only extremely debilitating injuries are "healed". Minor injuries and disabilities may continue to exist. For instance, Takeyama and Takamatsu still wear glasses, which suggest that their visual problems persist in the afterlife. I reasoned that, for Pak, the loss of his eye was not a life-changing incident. And as a result, he does not get his eye back in the afterlife.

**Pak:** Not a life-changing incident? How about I rip out one of your eyes, huh? I suppose you'll just write it off as a minor ordeal? Don't you know how much it hurt? To be hit by a…

**Dima**: No spoilers!

**Pak: **Oh, right. Fine. But I would still really like to have my eye back though. And a decent weapon.

**Dima: **And to our reviewers, we would really like to thank you for your support. The reviews and faves have been very encouraging. The private message conversations with other authors have been very rewarding as well. Especially the ones with C V Ford. I might publish those conversation logs in a separate file for your entertainment. They made me laugh so much.

**Pak:** Please don't. They were so embarrassing. Please do not publish them.

**Dima: **Nonsense. They were hilarious. In any case, I still have not yet received any requests for new characters. If you would like to add your own OC into the story, please see the instructions in the Prologue chapter.

**Pak:** Preferably a girl! A hot one. Like the ones I saw in the K-Pop music videos this morning. And have her be my girlfriend. Please! I've never had a girlfriend, and I'm nineteen. Von Braun was always surrounded by ladies. I felt so envious… But anyway, please submit an OC. I would really like a girlfriend. Or maybe even a harem. (Starts drooling).

**Dima: **I'm also nineteen, Ralf. And I also have no girlfriend. How do you think I feel? I have to spend Valentine's Day in my chemistry lab, working on PCRs and calculous problem sets. I tried making milkshakes last year, but no one came to my yard.

**Pak**: I feels. But at least you can look forward to the sale on chocolate next week.

**Dima:** Yeah. I suppose that's true. Please leave a comment and/or add this story to your favorites. Enjoy Valentine's Day!


	5. Standard Breifing

**Chapter 4: Standard Briefing (Pak)  
**

Gottverdammat! You'd think that after 19 years, I'd be pretty good at staying alive. But apparently, that's not how things works in the afterlife. Good thing no one really "dies" in the afterlife, but getting a shuriken stuck in your neck still hurt like hell.

I've met some incredible people in my life, but none came close to Shiina. At least in terms of physical prowess. Not only did she manage to hit me with a shuriken from twenty meters away, she was able to correctly determine my ancestral province in Korea. I still had no idea how she managed to do that without even hearing my voice. Maybe it was my looks? Or just a lucky guess? I didn't know the answer, but I learned that she was an amazing fighter.

I figured that Shiina was probably a ninja during the Imjin War. She would have likely served under daimyo Kato Kyomasa, whose troops captured Seoul and Busan. He single-handedly managed to defeat the entire Korean army at the Battle of the Imjin River and was close to concurring all of the Korean peninsula. I had always wondered how he managed to defeat so many troops in such a short time, but after meeting Shiina, I knew the answer. Matsushita was right; when she's on our side, she makes our forces seem a hundred men stronger.

When I woke up, I found myself laying on a sofa inside the principal's office. Someone had hastily wrapped some bandages over my wound. The gash on my neck was gone but the blood on my shirt was still wet. I could still feel droplets of blood rolling down my arm.

"How about you're-the-one-about-to-die-battlefront?" a voice suggested.

"But that sounds like I'm the one about to die!" another voice protested in disgust.

"Flashback Battlefront?"

"If only this were a flashback."

"This is so stupid."

Hearing Shiina's voice sent shivers down my spine. I leapt from the sofa, trying to defend myself against the inevitable attack. But fortunately, nothing happened. Shiina remained in that corner of the room, seemingly blending into the wall.

"Looks like the new guy's awake," someone remarked, "I think we can begin."

"Yes. It's time," Yuri nodded. She clapped her hands. The SSS members stopped talking and jumped to attention. The way those SSS members behaved reminded me of the resistance fighters in France. They were a ragtag band of misfits, but they were very resourceful and determined. They could always put up a good fight when they wanted.

"Attention. May I introduce you to Ralf Jin Pak. He used to be an aeronautics engineer back in Germany. If we can get him down to the Guild safely, we can take the fight against Angel to the skies!" She jumped on the table, pointing her finger in the air. "If we succeed, we may finally defeat her and invoke the presence of god. We can finally find that man in the sky and bring him down to earth."

A loud cheer echoed through the room. Yuri jumped down from the table and put her hand on my shoulder, "And you, Ralf, shall be the one who leads us to new heights."

"I'm not sure if that's possible," I wanted to say. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Damn. My vocal chords still hadn't healed. I tried to force air through my throat, but I only ended up choking myself. Yep. Still mute. Still inglorious.

I drew a line across my throat. Yurippe seemed to understand. I just bowed to show my appreciation.

"Let's introduce you to our members. That's Hinata," she pointed at a (relatively) normal-looking guy with blue hair, "He used to play baseball for the Hokkaido Nippon-Ham Fighters. We were the two original founders of the SSS." The guy gave me a firm handshake and a warm greeting.

She went on to point outside the window. "Noda is the one who went flying. He's still dead outside."

"And Fujimaki is the delinquent with the sword over there." The guy frowned a little and tightened his grip around his shirasaya, angry at the blunt label.

"Oyama is the sniper in our Battlefront. His only talent is that he doesn't have any." He looked up at me and stuttered a quick greeting.

"TK is the dancer on our team. A wildcard. No one knows his real name, so we all call him 'TK'". The guy danced very strangely, in a style I've never seen before. He greeted me in English. His accent and clothing suggested that he might have been American, but I wasn't quite sure.

"And you've already seen Shiina. I don't think there's much left to be said about her abilities." She still remained in the dark corner, silently surveying the situation. She eyes seemed to light up like a cat's. I didn't dare move a muscle, lest she should attack me again if I made any sudden movements. I stayed frozen until Yurippe pushed me in the opposite direction.

"Don't worry. She won't attack you again," she whispered in my ear. Somehow, I felt a lot less confident.

"And you already met Matsushita and Takamatsu this morning. Matsushita has a 5th degree black belt in Judo, so we all call him Matsushita the 5th. Takamatsu was the top scorer on the Center Shiken college entrance test in Sapporo, and he now serves as our chief of intelligence operations. He once tried some operations with hot air balloons, but let's just say that things did not exactly go to plan…" Takamatsu frowned a little at the comment.

"There are plenty of other SSS members around this school. There's our diversionary unit, Girls Dead Monster, led by Iwasawa. They're a rock band highly popular with the NPCs. And there's also, of course, the Guild, which produces all our weapons."

Yurippe took out two colored photographs and dangled them in front of my face. One showed a group of four girls standing on a stage. They were the four members of the Girls Dead Monster band. There was a girl with long lavender hair sitting behind the drum set. Another girl, with short red hair, stood in the middle, with a confident grin on her face. To her right was a girl with brown hair and a ponytail, staring into the camera. And in the background, there was a blonde girl who bore a strange resemblance to the drummer. They might have been twins.

The other photo showed a large group of workers lined up in some underground cavern. There must have been at least a hundred of them in this photo alone. Most had smiles on their faces, but it was heartbreaking to see how death has unmade so many young souls. Some were dressed in simple work clothes, while others wore protective welding gear and goggles. The words "Guild Staff" were scribbled on the top of the photograph.

"Before we start, do you have any questions, Ralf?"

"I do, but you seem to have forgotten the fact that I still can't talk," I wanted to say. I gestured at my throat again. Yurippe bought over a pen and a piece of paper.

I grabbed the pen and quickly scribbled down all the questions that came to mind:

_1.__What is the ultimate goal of the SSS? _

_2.__Why are we the ones in this afterlife? What brings us together?_

_3.__What do you mean by "obliterated"? _

_4.__Who are the NPCs? Why are they "not human"?_

_5.__Is Tenshi/the Student Body President really an angel?_

_6.__If so, is there a god as well? Have you met him?_

_7.__Why does the Student Body President want to "obliterate" us?_

_8.__Where is our exact geographical location? Is this afterlife school located in Japan?_

_9.__Do the laws of physics still apply in this world? How does Angel break them?_

_(P.S. I do not think that I'll be able to create a functional airplane from scratch, especially without proper heavy machinery.)_

_(P.S.S. Hot air balloons might actually work better.)_

_(P.S.S.S. My vocal cords are still haven't healed.)_

_(P.S.S.S.S. I think I'm getting carpal tunnel syndrome.)_

Everyone chuckled a little upon reading that last part.

Yurippe snapped her fingers. "Takamatsu, turn on the projector. Give him the standard briefing."

The lights dimmed. The projector started to display colored images on a cloth screen. There were various images of the school and of the Student Body President.

"Well… here are the basics," Yurippe began, pointing to a photograph of the school, "You still have amnesia, but all of us here have lived unreasonable, terrible lives. We died young and unfulfilled."

"We all died with terrible regrets," Hinata added, "That's also the reason you're here. You're here because you lived an unjust life."

"Only that you have the great privilege of not remembering anything…" Fujimaki mumbled, giving me a dirty look.

(Go on Youtube and listen to Unjust Life. It's my favorite soundtrack of the anime. Listen to it as you read the following lines.)

A slow melodic tone flowed through the speakers. It was a calm, melancholy duet between a violin and a piano. The music seemed to be calling out for someone. Was it calling out for a memory? Or searching for a loved one? Or maybe both.

Had I lived a terrible life? Did I die unfulfilled? I couldn't remember much, but my life was not good at all. I was separated from my friends and family. A lot my designs failed, and my superiors were threatening to court-martial me. I was working eighteen hours a day, designing, testing and sleeping in the same room. In desperation, I even started using a cocktail of drugs to deal with the stress and pain. But no matter how hard I tried, no matter how hard I worked, I just could not succeed. I was deemed a disgrace. A miserable failure. Something altogether degraded below the level of a man.

"We're all here because we choose to fight back against the unfairness of our past lives. We were never given a fair chance at life," Yurippe was practically shouting. But I could detect a hint of sadness in her voice. I saw her quietly wipe away a tear in her eye.

"God exists; that bastard has to exist for us to be in this afterlife. In our previous lives, death went after people randomly and indiscriminately. But here, we can resist and fight him. Our mission is to search for god. No one has seen him, but we'll drag him out somehow. We'll create a situation where he has no choice but to come out. And after that, I'm gonna give that guy who forced this unreasonable life on us one damn good punch. No… I'm going to give him a thousand punches. I'll beat him into a bloody pulp…" Her voice started to tremble midway through the sentence and then dropped to a whisper. Finally, she fell silent. She looked down. Streams of tears slowed down her cheeks.

Everyone in the room pretended to not notice. Hinata was the one who finally broke the silence: "You see, Ralf, there are those in the afterlife who do not share our hopes for justice and reason. They don't care about us… or humanity. They just want to us to move on. They want us to simply give up our memories, abandon our dreams, and become someone else. We might not even reincarnated as a human. For all we know, we could end up as barnacles. I guess Angel is one of them."

"Angel's goal in this world is to obliterate us. And when we're obliterated, we simply cease to exist. We still don't know if Angel is a human, a NPC, an android, or an actual angel", Takamatsu picked up, "Our intelligence reports are inconclusive. There's evidence to support all four possibilities. She might even be a combination of the four. She has superpowers, which are believed to come from some god. She has no outward emotions, which suggests that she might be a NPC, but she behaves pretty differently from the rest of the NPCs. She's resourceful, and she knows that we're all dead. Most Non-Player Characters do not have souls, and they do not deviate from a set range of tasks. You can point a rifle at them, and they won't react. You can still talk to them, and you can even befriend them. But keep in mind that they're robots programmed to behave like normal people; they are _not_ human."

It was a very disturbing idea. I had spent an entire day talking and playing soccer with machines, and I didn't even realize it. A small part of me wondered if Takamatsu was telling the truth, but there was no reason for him to lie. The thought that Angel was a fusion of man and machine was even more odious. She was unnatural—an unthinking, unfeeling mechanical contraption with a machine mind and a machine heart. I couldn't help but wonder if she had to give up her humanity to attain those powers. Power corrupts. The relentless pursuit of power eventually corrupts your humanity.

"The details regarding the afterlife world is not very clear to us either," Takamatsu continued, "Most laws of physics still apply, but you cannot 'die' unless you get obliterated. This school is called _Heavenly Academy_. The NPCs say that we are located on Tsushima Island. More specifically, they say that we're located just south of Hanayama Mountain. We've been able to verify that the ocean is located to our north, but we've never really explored all the mountains to the south. We've yet to find any 'boundary' to this afterlife world. It is entirely possible that there may be millions of dead souls in this world, but we've yet to make contact with anyone else. I hope that answers your questions."

I nodded. The melody playing on the speakers slowly ended, with the sound fading into the background. _Thank you so much_, I wrote down on the paper. _Everything makes sense. I will help you in the fight against god and Angel. Show me how I can help_.

"Excellent," Yurippe commented. I could see a smile returning to her face. The tears were gone now. She was a strong girl, no doubt. An excellent leader. "Let's give a warm round of applause to our newest recruit!" The sound of applause filled the room just as Noda silently entered the doorway with a confused look on his face. Everyone clapped except Shiina, who still stood in the corner, motionless.

"And here is a present fresh from the Guild," Hinata handed me a wooden box, "They made it just for you. From dirt. They figured that you'd already be familiar with it" I thanked him with a slight bow. _From dirt? Must have been an expression of speech,_ I thought to myself. I opened the box. Inside was a black Walther P38 pistol, just like the one I had back in Germany. One of my superior officers had given me one as a present, even though I had no use for it other than entertainment. I took the pistol out of the box and carefully examined it. Someone had engraved a SSS emblem into the side of the pistol. My name was etched on the other side. Other than the cosmetic alterations, it looked and felt exactly like the Walther P38 pistol used during the war.

_Thank you_, I scribbled down, _I used to own one of these things back in Germany. I know how to use and clean it_.

"Great!" Yurippe answered. "Without further to do, let's begin our next mission. After the skirmish last week, our ammunition supply is very low. Plus, we have to get Pak to the guild. So, tonight, we will conduct Operation: Parachute!" A spinning SSS icon appeared on the screen.

There was a collective groan. The word "parachute" was not exactly comforting to me either. Or flying, for that matter. After all, I had fallen to my death.

"We'll be going underground at 1600 hours. Shiina will stay behind to guard the entrance. I'll lead the rest of you guys underground. Hinata, call the Guild and have them deactivate the traps. You have exactly ten minutes to prepare your gear. Operation, commence!"

* * *

**Jargon Dictionary:**

**Kato Kiyomasa (1561 – 1611):**

Kato Kiyomasa served as a daimyo of the Azuchi-Momoyama and Edo period. Born in moder-day Aichi, Owari Province, Kiyomasa was a relative of Toyotomi Hideyoshi and enlisted to fight on his behalf. He soon gained a reputation for skill and bravery in battle and was promoted to a high position in the Imperial Court. He is most famous for his role during the Imjin War. During the conflict, his troops successfully landed in Busan and conquered the Korean capital of Seoul within two months. He was also skilled at defensive warfare, constructing a series of castles that blunted numerous Sino-Korean attacks.

**Hokkaido Nippon-Ham Fighters**

Founded in 1946, the Hokkaido Nippon-Ham Fighters has always been one of the top professional baseball teams in Japan. The team competes in the Pacific League of Nippon Professional Baseball and was won two Japan Series titles, in 1962 and 2006.

**Sapporo:**

The city of Sapporo, with a population of 1.9 million, is the fourth-largest city in Japan. It is the largest city on the island of Hokkaido, the northernmost island of the Japanese archipelago. The city hosted the 1972 Winter Olympics and is famous for its yearly Sapporo Snow Festival. Today, the city's primary economic activities consists of information technology, retail, manufacturing, and tourism.

**Tsushima Island:**

Located between the Japanese archipelago and the Korean Peninsula, Tsushima Island is the largest coherent island of Nagasaki Prefecture. The island is home to over 34000 residents, who mostly work in the fishing or tourism industry. The island is currently under Japanese administration, although it is claimed by Changwon City in South Korea.

**Walther P38**

The Walther P38 is a 9 mm semi-automatic pistol produced by Walther arms for the Wehrmacht. Designed as a replacement for the P08 "Luger", the P38 was a cheap and effective weapon. During its long service life, it proved to be a sound semi-automatic design capable of operating under the most adverse conditions. About 1 million units have been manufactured, and the weapon is still being used today.


	6. Labyrinth

**Chapter 5: Labyrinth (Pak)  
**

A diagram of the underground passageways leading to the Guild was displayed onto the projector screen. The Tunnels, as Fujimaki called it, was a labyrinth of underground passageways divided into twenty-one levels. All of them involved some sort of a trap or safety system, which, for confidentiality reasons, were not labelled. The headquarters was supposedly located more than 300 meters below the ground—far deeper than most subway systems and bunkers. Descending into the Guild is like descending from the top of the Eiffel Tower. The idea of carrying crates of ammunition all the way back up was not exactly pleasant either.

I had already memorized the name of the passageways, but there were a large number of hidden traps which were not listed. The passageways were littered with mines and booby traps that seemed to be the product of a five-year-old's twisted imagination. But there were some highly advanced traps too. Hinata told me about a chamber in which lasers are used to cut apart the occupants. Lasers were completely alien to me. I knew that optical amplification could be achieved through the stimulated emission of electromagnetic radiation. Albert Einstein established the theoretical foundations in 1917, but no one had managed to construct such a device by 1944. I really wanted to see one in action.

Yurippe had given me a new set of clothes—the standard SSS uniform. It was a comfortable uniform, but it looked more appropriate for boardroom meetings than for entering combat. There were lots of pockets though. I placed my Walther P38 into one of the pockets, securing it with a Velcro strap (another useful invention).

Even though enemy contact was not expected, the SSS members were still armed to the teeth. They carried a hodgepodge of different assault rifles and submachine guns. The only firearms I recognized were TK's Browning Hi-Power pistol and Fujimaki's PPsh-41 Fujimaki submachine gun. Those PPsh-41 submachine guns inflicted huge causalities on Germany infantry forces on the Eastern Front. It was capable of spewing out over a thousand rounds a minute, and the drum magazine he used held 71 rounds. It was a devastating weapon at close range; nothing else came close. And seventy years after its introduction, the PPsh-41 was still being used by humans in a rebellion against humanoid machines. Gerogi Shpagin must be proud of his work.

Most of the other members used more modern automatic weapons. The basic shape of the gun still hadn't changed much. It was still a tube connected to a magazine, a sight, and a trigger. But the materials with which guns were made had changed drastically. Most guns used during World War II were made of stamped iron and wood, but the more modern firearms often contained plastic and a new material called carbon fiber. This made the firearms very light and resistant to corrosion. The bullets the guns fired, though, much to my chagrin, were not guided. People were still shooting each other with the same lead bullets people used more than a century ago. Some things never change.

Oyama entered the room with two boxes of grenades. One box contained Italian Model 35 hand grenades, colored green instead of orange. The other box carried German Model 24 Stielhandgranates; the infantry called them stick grenades. I took one of each grenade. I was a little nervous about the stick grenade. I had heard stories of soldiers accidentally blowing up along with their own squads when the cord of the grenade got caught on shrubs or branches. There was vapid joke circulating among members of the Wehrmacht: "Exposed pull cords could snag when you least expect it. That would make you quite unpopular in what's left of your unit."

I felt a little out of place among the nine-member squad. Most were armed with an automatic weapon, a sidearm, and a melee weapon. My only firearm was a humble pistol designed in 1938, and I had no melee weapon. But I felt slightly better when I compared myself to Noda and Shina, who did not carry firearms at all. Shina was still standing on the dark corner of the room, remaining silent. Her only weapons were a katana and shurikens. Noda was standing by the window, busy spinning his halberd outside. He could spin the weapon as if it were only a pencil. I made a mental note to never get on his bad side.

In the meantime, Yurippe was speaking to the Guild on the telephone: "Yes. We will need a crate of .50 BMG cartridges as well. Yes… We are heading out now. Deactivate all the traps… Good. Goodbye." She hung up the phone and got up from her chair. She looked at the clock; it was time.

We filed out of the Principal's Office in an amorphous blob. No one seemed to care about formations and marching in step. No one showed any signs of trepidation or nervousness either. Everyone was calm and laid back, as if we were going to a theater or a stroll in the park. None of the NPCs seemed to notice our weapons. Out of morbid curiosity, I pointed my pistol at random groups of NPC students. Some of them gave me odd looks, but most just continued on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Maybe they were already jaded by the SSS's constant antics.

The entrance to the Tunnels was located in the school auditorium. I was surprised by how simple the disguise was. TK and Matsushita pulled out a cart full of chairs form under the stage, and we had to crawl under the stage to the entrance. The door was guarded by a simple lock. Yurippe unlocked door and was the first to enter the tunnels. I was the second.

The beginning of the Tunnels was slightly more comfortable than the inside of the Wenceslas Mine, but not by much. (A/N: Please read the Jargon Dictionary for this. It's important to the story.) A few rows of lights on the top of the tunnel gave off dim illumination, but most of the support beams were still wooden. Rotting wooden planks covered the ground. The air was hot and humid and reeked of sulfur.

The conditions inside the Tunnels varied drastically. For some sections, the walls were covered by plaster and columns of fluorescent lights provided adequate lighting. The section before the laser room even had an elevator. Other sections, like pathway along the river, however, had no lighting at all. We had to navigate by listening to the sound of the stream.

"Oh no! I forgot," Oyama warned, "This trap cannot be disabled. This is the trap where morons get careless and slip and fall into the river.

Noda began to complain, "Don't forget important de—" before slipping and falling into the river. The blade of his halberd snagged his jacket, and he was dragged down to the bottom of the stream.

There was a collective moan and the sound of palms hitting foreheads: "Noda… you moron…" The word "moron" seemed to echo in the tunnels for an eternity.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. No one else died.

The Tunnels ended in a pair of gigantic steel doors that somehow reminded me of the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin. We had to physically push the doors open. I could hardly believe what I saw afterwards.

The Guild was not just a simple workshop or factory. It was literally an underground city. I had never seen anything like it before. The cavern was a roughly circular dome, about half a mile in diameter. There was a central spire in the middle of the dome, holding up the ceiling. An array of floodlights illuminated the Guild in a yellowish hue. The ground was filled with cranes, smokestacks, factories, workshops, and cooling towers. I had seen underground aircraft factories in Germany during the war, but they were not even close to the size of the Guild. I was once dispatched to Mittelwerk to inspect the production of the jets and missiles. Mittelwerk housed 2500 workers in just over 22 acres. The Guild was over five times its size.

Yuri led me down the slope to the floor of the Guild. There were workers everywhere, hauling carts and operating machinery. A small crowd was waiting for us at the bottom. A man with a beard and goggles approached me and gave me a bone-crushing handshake.

"I'm Chaa," the man introduced in a deep voice, "I'm the head of the Guild. We're always glad to get new recruits, especially engineers like you."

"My name is Ralf Jin Pak," my voice still sounded grainy from the injury, "Honored to be a member of this wonderful team. I see that you have a lot of advanced machinery."

The man chucked slightly, "Very observant. Hopefully, all those designs you learned in Germany will be of great use to us. You do remember them?"

"Right down to the number of number of rivets," I replied with a smile. "I also worked on armored cars, tanks, artillery and rockets."

"Excellent. We'd all love to see the looks on Angel's face as she is crushed underneath the tracks of a tank."

"I'd love to see that as well. The great battle of the machines. Our tanks versus the android known as Angel."

Chaa gave me a pat on the back. "Excellent. We're always happy to have go-getters like you on our team. Guild, let's give Pak a warm round of applause!" The sound of applause resonated throughout the cavern. There must have been one hundred people in the Guild, judging from the volume.

"Yim," Chaa called out, "Show Pak around the factory. Make sure to show him the machine room." Yim is a common Korean name, but the girl who greeted me was not. She was a short girl, about the same height as Angel. She had tan skin and a huge smile on her face. Even though she was wearing dirty overalls and goggles, it was easy to make out her attractive features. She had bright brown eyes and wore her hair in a ponytail with a white bow on the back of her head. She greeted me with a traditional Thai wai.

"Yindithidairujak-kah, Pak!" she called, "It's nice to know you. My name is Sanfan Lerdsakul, but you can just call me Yim. Please allow me to show you around the guild." She spoke with a very cheerful and lively voice, quite contrary to what I expected from the dead. I followed her into the heart of the Guild, gawking at the all the machinery and equipment around me.

**Yuri Nakamura's POV:**

No one can die in the Afterlife, but it still pays to be cautious. Taking Pak down to the Guild was risky enough, and letting him see the equipment was even more risky. Our plan was a huge gamble. If our bets paid off, Angel would soon be blown away by cannon shells and rockets. But if something were to go wrong, the SSS could well be on the receiving end of those shells and rockets.

We did not feel secure until Pak and Yim travelled so far away that their figures were obscured by the steam and soot. The hissing and pounding of the machines were more than enough to drawn out normal conversations, but we still spoke in whispers.

"So, that's Pak, huh?" Chaa whispered with a hint of disappointment, "He doesn't look scary at all. Looks quite normal, as a matter of fact. And he seemed like a pretty nice guy."

"Don't let your guard down," I replied, "We need to be very careful. If any of you ever suspect that he is up to something, let us know immediately. He is even more dangerous than Angel." I gestured at Takamatsu, who promptly began to unbutton his shirt, showing off his muscular abs and chest. He got a kick to the face in return.

"Not _that_, Takamatsu," I yelled, trying to ignore the strange glares from everyone else. "Your intelligence report!"

Takamatsu put his glasses back on and sheepishly unrolled the sheets of paper he had hidden in his sleeves. The Guild members crowded around us, trying to get a closer look. On the upper right hand corner of the paper, there was a paper-clipped photo of Pak standing in front of a Focke-Wulf Fw 190 fighter plane. The words "Classified" were printed at the top in bright red letters. Chaa began to quietly read out the contents.  
"Pak, Shin-kun. Alias: Pak, Jin Ralf. Born on Sakhalin Island in 1925. Mixed Korean, Chinese, and Russian heritage… Educated in Chongjin, Korea…" Chaa took a slight pause. "You mean Pak grew up in North Korea?" I heard a few chuckles from the Guild members.

"That's not even the most surprising thing we found," I replied, "Keep reading."

Chaa obliged. "He tried to stage a rebellion against the Japanese occupation but failed. He escaped into the USSR, where he enlisted in the NKVD… My god…" Even Chaa was starting to get nervous. Some of the Guild members—the ones who knew about the horrors of the NKVD—also exchanged anxious glances.

"He was sent to Germany under a false identity, Ralf Jin Pak. He studied at Munich Technical University and began acquainted with Willy Messerschmitt and Kurt Tank. He spied on their work and covertly sent blueprints back to the Soviet Union. He also worked on many tanks and rockets and designed machinery for underground German factories… And he worked on chemical weapons as well?"

Takamatsu nodded. "This intelligence was declassified by the Soviet Union in 1990," he affirmed, "Pak could not confirm this report, since he has amnesia and can only remember a small portion of his own past. But we've crossed-checked the Soviet report against records in Germany. There were no discrepancies."

Chaa grunted his teeth and kept on reading: "He was also involved in the July 20th plot to assassinate Hitler and was immediately placed under suspicion. He died on July 23rd, when he tried to escape arrest by stealing a recon plane. His plane was shot down by a RAF plane, and he was killed… He was posthumously awarded the title Hero of the Soviet Union…"

A tense silence broke out among the Guild members. Chaa was unsure how to react. There was murmur in the crowd.

"So Pak is a war hero. That's awesome. Why are we being so secretive about it?" A member of the Guild asked.

"Moron!" I yelled back, "He fought against us, and he's a die-hard communist. There's no way he'd help us if he actually remembered his past. He might even try to kill us."

"Why don't we just get rid of him then?" Another member of the Guild suggested, "We can just lock him in a cell or bury him alive. He's probably going to get his memory back at some point. Let's just play it safe. We've done fine up until now. It's not like that we'll all be suddenly obliterated without his help."

I shook my head. "No, that'd be a waste of talent. Pak still remembers all his designs. With his help, we'd be able to build tanks and airplanes. He could finally allow us to take down Angel."

"And that's why we have to keep his past a secret," Takamatsu added, receiving nods from members of the Guild, "We can't let him find out about his past. We can't even let him find out about his real name. His past is public information. There are statues dedicated to him in Russia and Korea."

"But listen," I continued, "If you guys ever feel as if Pak is up to something, let us know immediately. And be extremely cautious. He fooled the Germans for years, and he can easily outsmart us. We need to keep him for now, so do not mention a single word of his past to him. Don't bring up the July 20 Plot, the NKVD, or communism. And never address him by this real name. They might trigger his memories. Letting him work on his designs is already very dangerous. Do not augment that risk. And do not tell his information to the other Guild members. Some of them have extreme political views and may try to kill Pak."

"I've already told Yim to keep an eye on him," Chaa responded, "Yim is smart. She knows how to read people. But it's our collective responsibility to make sure that Pak does not find out about his past. Watch what you say when he is around. Monitor his Internet, and hide all your history books. Keep him busy." The members of the Guild all nodded in agreement. Chaa went to the nearest furnace and burned Takamatsu's intelligence report.

"Oh, and one more thing," I whispered, "You guys were never assembled here today. And this conversation never happened."

* * *

**Jargon Dictionar**

**Italian Model 35 hand grenades**

Italian Model 35 hand grenades were perhaps the most distinctive grenades used in WWII. Nicknamed "Red Devils" by the British in North Africa, these grenades were often painted red and gained a notorious reputation for being dangerous when found in an unexploded condition. These grenades strongly resemble the grenades Yuri uses in episode 8.

**Wenceslas Mine:**

The Wenceslas Mine was a coal mine located near the border between Poland and the Czech Republic. This mine is the rumored location of Die Glock, a purported secret Nazi superweapon. The purpose of the device is unclear; some rumors suggest that the device was devoted to anti-gravity research, while others believe that it was a reactor that generated fissile material for the German nuclear program. Although it is even more likely that Die Glock never existed, most theorists believe that the device had to do with the German nuclear program. The fact that Pak is familiar with this location suggests that he also understands nuclear fission. (In the previous chapter, it was stated that Pak did not know about the atom bomb. Germany conducted fission experiments early on in the war to power its submarine fleet. The idea of an atom bomb was not contemplated until afterwards. It's still possible that Pak knew about fission but was not informed about its potential as a weapon.)

**Brandenburg Gate**

An icon of Berlin, the Brandenburg Gate is an 18th-century neoclassical triumphal arch in Berlin. Located near the Reichstag building, the gate serves as the monumental entry to Unter den Linden, the boulevard of linden trees. Since its construction in 1791, it has often been a site for major historical events. It is today considered a symbol of the tumultuous history and current unity of Europe and Germany.

**Mittelwerk**

Literally translated as "Central Works", Mittelwek was a German World War II factory located underneath Kohnstein Hill. Protected from Allied air raids, the factory produced V-2 ballistic missiles, V-1 flying bombs, and jet fighters for the German war effort. However, it is most infamous for its association with slave labor. The factory used force labor from the Mittelbau-Dora concentration camp. An estimated 60,000 people worked in the factory, and an estimated 20,000 were killed.

**Wai:**

The wai is a form of greeting used in Thailand. It consists of a slight bow, with the palms pressed together in a prayer-like fashion.

**Focke-Wulf Fw 190**

With over 20,000 units produced, the Focke-Wulf Fw190 formed the backbone of the Luftwaffe fighter force. Its large BMW 801 radical engine gave it an enormous amount of power, allowing it to function as a fighter-bomber and as a ground-attack aircraft. When it first came into operation in 1941, it outclassed everything the Allies had. It remained a formidable opponent for Allied fighters until the end of the war, thanks to its heavy firepower and maneuverability. This aircraft is featured in the background of the portrait of Ralf Jin Pak, which can be viewed by searching "Ralf Jin Pak" on Google Images.

**Chongjin, North Korea**

The capital of North Korea's North Hamgyong Province, Chongjin is the third largest city in the nation. Often called the City of Iron, the city developed into an important trading port and industrial base for the Japanese during the Russo-Japanese War. Today, the city still serves as one of the most important steel and fiber industry centers in the DPRK. It is home to over 627,000 people, including a considerable number of Chinese and Russian businessmen and sailors.

**NKVD**

The People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs, abbreviated NKVD, was a law enforcement agency in the Soviet Union. It is functioned as the Soviet secret police and is infamous for its political repression during Joseph Stalin's rule. The NKVD conducted mass extrajudicial executions and ran the Gulag system of forced labor camps. It is estimated that the NKVD executed one million people, and millions more were killed in its Gulags.

**July 20th Plot**

The July 20th Plot was an attempt made to assassinate Adolf Hitler inside his Wolf's Lair field headquarters in Rastenburg. The plot was the culmination of efforts of the German Resistance to overthrow the Nazi-led German government. The apparent purpose of the assassination was to seize political control of Germany and obtain peace with the Western Allies. The attempt failed, and 7000 suspects were arrested by the Gestapo; 5000 were later executed.

* * *

**Closing **

**Pak: **I'm really liking how the P.A. Works staff designed this place. It reminds me of art. I've always felt that there is beauty to be found in industrial machines. There is beauty in decay.

**Yim: **This art style is referred to as Steampunk-kah. It fuses together technology and aesthetic designs inspired by 19th-century industrial steam-powered machinery-kah.

**Pak: **Oh? I guess that explains why it feels like a sauna in here. But are these machines actually powered by steam? And what exactly does kah mean?

**Yim: **(Shrugs.) Just a verbal tic of mine. It means "yes" in Thai-kah. Most of the machines here are electrical. I'm a big fan of the steampunk art style as well. Especially the Cosplay. I went to the Anime Festival Asia conference in Bangkok dressed as a steampunk girl one time-kah. The people there loved it.

**Dima: **I've always wanted to go to an anime conference, but I never have the time. I heard that the ones in Japan can get really crazy. The closest thing for me was BronyCon in 2012. And that was crazy enough for me. I did not stay too long.

**Yim: **BronyCon? What's that for? What's a brony-kah?

**Pak: **Bronies are men who watch My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. It's a strange fetish the author has.

**Dima: **Ponies are awesome. Ponies are love. Ponies are life. Pinkie Pie is best pony.

**Pak: **(Rolls eyes.) Whatever. What are you doing here?

**Dima: **Just wanted to meet our first OC. Sanfan… How do I pronounce this?

**Yim: **Lerdsakul.

**Dima: **Right. Anyway, I just wanted to give a shout-out to PPsyrius, who submitted the first OC to this story. We will also be working together on his Strike Witches fanfiction.

**Yim: **(Bows.) Glad to be here. PPsyrius and I are both from Hat Yai. We're both aviation and anime enthusiasts-kah. I'm sure that you guys will get alone really well!

**Dima (to Pak in Korean): **And you got what you wanted, right? Yim is really cute. Even in those clothes. You should take her and Yuri to the beach. There are some small beaches on the eastern end of the island. Bathing suits these days are a lot less conservative than the ones you're used to.

**Pak (to Dima in Korean):** Could you please make that happen? It doesn't even have to be a full chapter. Just a small paragraph. Please?

**Dima: **Depends on how the story progresses. Final exams are coming up soon, so I won't be writing much. But keep the suggestions and OCs coming, guys!


	7. Rustic Road

**Chapter 6: Rustic Road (Pak)  
**

I woke up to the sweet and savory smell of fresh beef and fried onions. I opened my eyes and realized that Yim was in my dorm room. She was standing by the edge of the bed, holding a bowl of congee below my nose. Her trademark smile began to spread across her face.

"Good morning, Pak!" She greeted, "A bright new day is starting-kah."

"Oh, hi… Is that for me?"

"Yup. I made two for the both of us-kah. This is jok with minced pork, spring onions, and pathongko. It's a classic back in Thailand."

I groggily got out of bed. As my vision adjusted to the light, I noticed that Yim was not wearing her normal SSS uniform. Instead, she was dressed in a maid's uniform. Or, at least, that was what it looked like. It was a simple black dress with white trim. The pleated skirt that stopped at her thighs, revealing her thigh-high stockings and tan thighs. A frilly white half-apron was tied around her waist. The outfit was tight in the stomach area, but the cut of the fabric around the chest accented her generous bust. All this, of course, made the satin choker more pronounced.

Yim did not seem to care much about how I was staring at her. In fact, she actually giggled a bit when she noticed.

"You like it?" Yim asked in a softer voice, "This is my French maid costume. I wore a similar one to an anime convention in Kofu back in 2008-kah. I was cosplaying as Misaki Ayuzawa from Maid Sama! She is my favorite character from… Oh wait. You've probably never heard of anime-kah. Never mind then."

I just nodded. It had been almost a week since my arrival in the afterlife. I managed to read a lot about developments in technology during the short amount of time. Electronic technology developed at a breakneck pace in the late 20th century, and I found it very hard to keep track of them all. Entirely new forms of entertainment, including 3D films and computer games, came about as a result of these new technologies. You didn't even need to go to the library to borrow the books and stories you liked. You could just turn on your laptop and read them online, like all ye privileged readers are doing right now.

Now fully aroused, (bad word choice, hehe), I stretched my arms and buttoned up my pajamas. Yim was hauling in a cart full of food from the hallway. I went to my dorm bathroom to brush my teeth and then met with Yim at my desk. She had cleared away all the books and blueprints that covered the table and floor.

"You're a very hard sleeper, you know?" Yim chaffed, "I managed to organize all those files and sweep this room without you noticing. Then I tried to play some K-Pop songs on my mp3 player to wake you up, but you slept through all of them. But at least you still have a sensitive nose."

"Hehe. I'm practically deaf when I'm asleep. One time, a pair of Soviet Pe-3 night fighters strafed an airfield I was visiting. Air raid alarms were going off, and the all the anti-aircraft guns were firing at them. One shell exploded near the barracks and shattered the window right next to me. I slept through all of it. I didn't know about the raid until I saw the shards of glass on the ground the next day.

"But how come you're so sensitive to smell-kah?"

"Germany military rations. It's too painful… And plus, I hadn't had any good Asian food in years. You get tired of sauerbraten and potato dumplings really quickly. Towards the end, we had nothing but potatoes. Those were completely tasteless. This, on the other hand…"

Breakfast was supposed to be a small meal, but that did not mean that it had to be dull. On the table were giant bowls of congee, youtiao, fried bananas, meat skewers dripping with sauce, and cornbread drizzled with condensed milk. The smell alone was enough to make my mouth water.

"These are my favorites-kah," Yim replied, using chopsticks to pick up a youtiao, "They're called pathongo. It's like a donut, but it's fully on the inside and crunchy on the outside. Those skewers there are moo ping. I made them from pork shoulder cuts and used TK's special North Carolina barbeque sauce-kah. They go really well with that bowl of jok and sticky rice. You can also dip the pathongko and bread in the jok and give it a really—hey are you even listening?

I wasn't. Although I was salivating uncontrollably at the irresistible aromas of my food, I couldn't help but continue to stare. "I've never had Thai food before. Where do I even start?"

"Start with the meat. If you start with the pathongko or cornbread, you're going to be eating a lot of carbs. They fill you up more quickly," Yim suggested, picking up a slice of fried banana with a fork, "You should also try to save the congee and coffee for last-kah. Oh yeah, speaking of coffee…"

Yim got up and took out a silver coffee pot. She set a porcelain coffee cup set on the table. "Okaerinasaimase, goshujin-sama. (Welcome home, Master)." She poured the espresso and kneeled by the table to stir cream into the coffee. She then scooped up some coffee in a spoon and put it by my mouth. "Open up, Pak. This is your favorite. Vienna coffee with fresh milk and a sprinkle of chocolate powder."

I was a little puzzled by her bizarre behavior, but who was I to judge? And how could I say no to being pampered like that? My superiors at Messerschmitt treated me like a dog for half a decade. It was about time that I got some time to relax and enjoy myself. Of course, Yim's uniform and cooking made that a lot more pleasant than I anticipated. I no longer knew if I was drooling because of the food or because of Yim.

I took a sip of coffee, and my taste buds exploded. Viennese coffee.

Viennese coffee.

I sipped and sipped again as Yim continued to feed me. "This is even better than the coffee served in the cafeteria. How did you make it so much better?"

"I purchased a chocolate bar and shaved some of it into the coffee-kah. I also added some caramel and fresh whole milk."

I was too busy delighting in the coffee to think of a good compliment. "I love coffee and chocolate."

"I know."

"How did you find out?"

"Everyone in school knows."

How did she know that chocolate was my weakness? I took another sip. Had she been following me? Had she seen me hoarding all the chocolate bars from the cafeteria? Or maybe the chocolate bar wrappers inside the room were a giveaway. Yeah. That was probably it. "And uh… do you feed me the food as well?"

"No, silly. You're going to have to do that yourself-kah. You get to customize the flavor I used to work at a maid café in Japan. On slow days, we spoon-feed the customers to improve their dining experience-kah. We used to spoon-feed them food as well, but it proved to be a major choking hazard…"

I eventually decide to pick up a piece of barbequed pork, biting into it. Immediately, the sweet juices of the pork skin seeped into my tongue. As soon as my taste buds registered the savory taste, I couldn't help but reach for another piece.

"Hey, see? Told you this is good stuff," Yim mods, helping herself to the same dish, "TK made the sauce especially for us-kah. I had to let it marinate for ten hours to give it that extra kick."

I swallowed another mouthful of pork. "You seem to really enjoy this. Why did you want to become a pilot instead of a chef?" I asked before quickly picking up a piece of youtiao. She had told me about her desires to fly when we were touring the Guild, but I never got around to asking about her dreams.

"This right here is one of the reasons why I spent two years at the Japan Aviation High School-kah. I want to connect the world. So that everyone has a chance to taste and enjoy good food like this by travelling. Eat the jok, and you'll see what I mean-kah."

I began to scope up the congee. "I suppose if this is what you're trying to work for, I guess I can understand". I was never a big fan of congee. Plain congee was a prolific famine food, since it could stretch the rice ration. I eventually began to associate congee with starvation and learned to hate it. But the congee Yim made was different. It was served with a raw egg, minced pork, and chopped spring onions. The flavor was wonderful. "That's not a bad reason, actually. You should really thank me for making it possible, you know. I hope that you enjoyed flying jets. I developed turbojet engines. You're welcome."

Yim smiled and shrugged at the same time, "I was trained to fly turboprops-kah. The Dash 8 series, to be more exact. Fuel is really expensive nowadays, and turboprops are very efficient. Very fast too-kah. The Dash 8 was introduced in 1984 by de Havilland..." I frowned when I heard that name. Yim gasped a bit when she realized her mistake, spilling some of her jok onto her apron. "I'm so sorry…"

That name. Out of all the companies, why did it have to be de Havilland? Yim knew that I had a grudge against de Havilland. I fall into an abyss of hatred whenever I hear that name. Sure, I was killed by one of their planes. But that wasn't all. I hated de Havilland because it was so successful. Their Mosquito bombers were virtually unopposed at night for the entire war. None of my designs came close. At a lecture in 1943, Goring personally told me that the Mosquito turns him "green and yellow with envy." I felt the same way.

Yim tried to assuage my anger by feeding me spoonfuls of jok. That helped a little bit. Another fifteen minutes pass, and both of our plates sit empty with sticks stripped of all traces of meat and a few stray chunks of bread and sauce.

"Did you enjoy your meal, Pak?"

"Yes. It was a really pleasant surprise. Way better than cafeteria food. I suppose that we have to head back down to the Guild now?"

"No. We typically get the weekends off. Some of the members were thinking about testing some of the new equipment in the mountains-kah. It's a good chance for us to do a bit of hiking and fishing as well. The weather outside is really good right now."

"Good idea," I praised. "I hate being underground. It's so damp and hot down there. I could really use some fresh mountain air to clear my mind. We can also do test out some of our new gear."

"That's what those Guild members were thinking too. Staying underground is not good for your health-kah. You start to look like a vampire after a while. That's why the Guild organizes a hiking trip every week."

"Very wise of them. The two of us also need to burn off the calories that we just consumed. What's the itinerary?"

Yim looked at her wristwatch. "We're leaving in an hour and will be coming back late at night. We'll be meeting at the school parking lot. You don't need to wear the uniform, but bring your equipment. I'll call the Guild and tell them that you're going as well."

After the conversation, Yim took away the dirty plates on her cart and left the room. I did some light morning stretches, took a shower, and dressed myself. Most of my clothing were dirty and badly in need of a wash, but it was nothing that the new automatic washing machines could not handle.

Buried underneath a pile of dirty clothing was two of my newest creations—my personal weapons for my fight against Angel. I took them out and carefully examined them. The larger weapon was a Panzerbüsche 39 (PzB 39) anti-tank rifle. The damn thing took a full day to build, but I loved it. The gun was long and heavy, weighing 13 kilograms, and it kicked like a mule. The 7.92x94mm Patronen tungsten rounds they wired were as large as my thumb. The gun was originally made by German engineers to penetrate the armor of enemy tanks. It was adequate at the beginning of the war, but it had become hopelessly outclassed by 1944. They were slowly phased out of service, and some of the guns found their way to the storage facilities at my airbase. I studied the gun and tried to make an automatic version of it to use as defensive armament on bombers, but I eventually gave up. The gun was still very effective against aircraft armor, although it was useless against tanks. Angel, fortunately, was not a tank; she was some sort of mechanical contraption, but she was not quite a tank. She sometimes fought like one though, advancing towards our lines while deflecting her bullets. Only Matsushita's AT-4 anti-tank recoilless rifle could stop her, but the weapon was inaccurate and slow to reload. I hoped to fix that.

The original PzB 39 used by the Wehrmacht was a bolt-action weapon. Each round had to be manually inserted into the chamber using a vertical breech block mechanism. The sights was a mere hooded front post with a rear "V" notch. Semi-automatic firing and accuracy were not priorities when fighting tanks, but they were important for an anti-Angel weapon. I added a semi-automatic loading mechanism to the gun, increasing the practical firing rate to 30 rounds per minute. I also gave it a 30-round magazine and a laser sight. I hoped that these modifications, along with the original stopping power of the anti-tank round, would be enough to stop Angel from advancing.

My modernized PzB 39 was a fearsome weapon, but it was still heavy and cumbersome. It was not good for when fighting in close quarters. I made a second weapon especially for those situations. It was a grey MP 40 submachine gun, virtually identical to the ones used by Germany during World War II. Many of the guards at my airbase used it, and it was an everyday sight for me. The gun was reliable and had a fantastic rate of fire. Most importantly, it was light and reliable. I could easily strap the submachine gun around my neck, freeing my hands for the PzB 39. Doing things the other way around would have probably resulted in a broken neck.

I slung the MP 40 submachine gun around my shoulder and put the PzB 39 in a modified baritone saxophone case. The PzB 39 was collapsible, and I usually carried in a case to avoid unwanted suspicion. I played the tenor saxophone back in Germany, and the baritone was not much different. The gun weighed about the same as the saxophone.

I made my way from my dorm room to the school parking lot, basking in the morning sunshine and fresh air. I was glad that I could still stay in a dorm room. Some of the Guild members were assigned NPC roommates and had to stay underground in the Guild overnight. I felt bad for them. They did not get to hear the chirping of birds or see the natural light. It was always damp and depressing down there, and the air always smelled like sulfur.

A convoy of school minivans were lined in a neat row in the school parking lot. SSS members were busy loading weapons, camping gear, and crates of ammunition onto the vehicles. Three Guild members were busy trying to hitch our newest weapon—a Pak 36 37mm anti-tank gun—to one of the vans. I had just built that weapon the day before, and we were all very eager to test it out. It was the SSS's first canon, and it could give us a crucial edge in the fight against Angel. Chaa did not want to test the gun underground, and the mountains were the perfect place to test the high-explosive and incendiary shells.

There must have been around three dozen SSS members running around the parking lot, but one stood out in particular. The girl carried a guitar case on her back and an AK-47 assault rifle on her shoulder. She was the only Caucasian girl in the school; her blond hair and bright blue eyes really set her apart. She grew up in Poland but spoke Japanese better than I did. Her name was Aleksandra Winograd, but she went by Sandra. She was as passionate about music as she was about weapons. Like me, she died during WWII—one of the twelve million victims of the Holocaust. She always wore a sad and angry expression on her face, except when she was on her guitar. Her music helped lift the mood of everyone in the Guild; we would all gather to hear her sing and play during our lunch breaks. She was a hard worker too, and she could replicate my weapons with astonishing speed and accuracy.

Sandra was arguing with Yui, one of the SSS members. Apparently, Yui had bought along her drum set and wanted to practice in the mountains, but Sandra said that there was not enough space: "Why can't you just go practice early tomorrow?" Sandra suggested, "The GirlDeMo girls rarely get up before ten."

"But what if they hear me, they'll never accept me into their band" Yui moaned, "They've already rejected me for guitar." Tears seemed to be filling her eyes, although her voice did not change to reflect that.

"Look Yui, there's nothing we can do," Chaa replied, "Your drums just won't fit inside any of our vans. Most of those vans are overloaded as is. And we're still trying to figure out how to load Pak's artillery piece."

"Why can't you take the food delivery truck?" Yui asked, "That truck is big enough to fit all our equipment."

"Well…" Chaa rubbed his temples, "No one here knows how to drive a manual. In fact, only six of us here know how to drive."

Six was not a bad number. One of my NPC friends had told me that the minimum driving age in Japan was 18. Most of the members of the SSS were still a few years short. The minimum age in Germany was also 18, but that did not apply to military vehicles in times of war. I had seen Hitler Youth members as young as 14 driving Opel Blitz trucks.

"I can drive a manual," I volunteered, catching Chaa and Sandra off-guard, "I'm pretty familiar with trucks as well."

"You can?! You're awesome, Mr. Cyclops!" Yui replied exuberantly, giving be a tight, rib-crushing hug. I felt like that my other eye was going to pop out.

Chaa and Sandra looked at each other and then at me. "I'm happy to help," I affirmed.

Chaa led me to the cafeteria entrance, where two NPC cafeteria ladies were loading crates of milk off of the back of a white Mitsubishi Fuso Canter FE160 box truck. Chaa walked up to the cafeteria ladies and took out his ID: "Hello, ladies. This is Chaa from School Maintenance. One of the water pipes in the dorms just burst. We need to commandeer this vehicle to bring in the emergency replacement."

"Sure thing, sweetie" the old NPC lady replied with a smile, "Just bring it back when you're done." Chaa really was on the school maintenance staff; it allowed him to access parts and supplies that were usually off-limits to regular students. But it was still the middle of spring. NPCs were always gullible; they never really seemed to suspect anything.

I got inside the cab of the truck. It was a lot more roomy and fancy than the Opel Blitz trucks I drove in Germany, but the controls were very similar. I started the truck, shifted it into first gear, and drove to the parking lot. Chaa and the Guild staff scrambled to load it up with ammunition, music instruments, and camping gear. They also welded a towing hitch to the rear bumper of the truck, in order to carry the artillery piece. All this work was done within ten minutes. Yim arrived at the parking lot, dressed in a Thai schoolgirl uniform and holding a Rung Paisarn RPS-001 assault rifle. I had to pull her into the tall cab of the truck. Sandra was decided to ride on my truck, which had space for two passengers. All the SSS combat team members except Shiina also came along for the trip, traveling in the vans. We departed only two minutes behind schedule.

The trip into the mountains took us along a windy, rustic road. The road out from the academy itself stretched for more than five kilometers, and it was completely empty. But as the roads began to merge, we began to see more vehicles. There were not too many of them, but I saw at least half a dozen. Yim told me that they were all driven by NPCs. That made sense, as none of them seemed to care about the box truck hauling an artillery piece next to them.

"You're a smooth operator, Pak," Sandra complimented as I maneuvered through a pack of NPC sedans. She seemed very relaxed, with her feet on the dashboard. "I'm guessing that you learned that on the Autobahn?" I forced a smile and nodded. Driving a truck was way easier than flying, even when you were towing an artillery piece. But I was always hesitant to talk about Germany when Sandra was around. She had every reason to hate me, but she was nothing but kind and polite toward me. But that did not make me feel any better about my past.

Yim was also a bit uneasy about the conversation. She offered Sandra a piece of dried mango as a distraction. Like me, she was cautious when dealing with others' pasts. "Heh, Pak? How about we turn on the radio? You might be able to catch some K-Pop tunes being broadcasted from Korea."

I nodded in agreement. I needed some music to keep me awake. Trucks were not the most engaging vehicles to drive, and K-Pop tunes were always very uplifting. Tsushima Island was only 80 km from the Korean port of Busan—well within the range of AM radio. (I was not so sure about FM radio, which was mostly developed after WWII).

Yim switched on the radio, which was still on 738 kHz AM. The digital display identified the broadcaster as HLKG-AM. Booming sounds spewed forth from the stereo. I almost lost control of the truck. My mind went blank. The message being broadcasted shook me to the core.

The radio station was indeed Korean. But instead of catchy K-Pop songs, the station was broadcasting the desperate pleas of a teenage girl. Her voice was trembling with fear. Gunfire and screams could be heard in the distant background: "Hello? Is anyone out there? This is the Ulsan broadcasting center… There are still seven of us here, from the whole city. We have been holding out here for three days. I have just shot my pistol's last bullet. In a few minutes, thousands of Communists will overrun us. We are destroying our radio equipment. We will fight till the end. Long live Korea! Long live President Syngmann Rhee…" Her voice was cut off by a burst of gunfire and the sound of shattering glass. The radio fell silent. An eerie static took over the airwaves.

* * *

**Jargon Dictionary**

**Pathongko**

Pathonko, also known as youtiao or fried breadstick, is a popular breakfast dish in East and Southeast Asia. It's made by deep-frying and salting a strip of dough, and it's commonly eaten as an accompaniment for rice congee or soy milk.

**Petlyakov Pe-3**

The Petlyakov Pe-3 was a night figher version of the Soviet Petlyaklov Pe-2 high-speed bomber. The airplane's designers followed the same design philosophy used by the British de Havilland Mosquito, creating an airplane with light armor but high speed. However, the Pe-3 did not enjoy the overwhelming success of the Mosquito, due to a combination of design flaws and poor tactics. Nevertheless, the airplane was remained in service throughout World War II, mostly with reconnaissance units towards the end of the war.

**Sauerbraten**

Commonly regarded as one of the national dishes of Germany, sauerbraten is a pot roast that can be prepared with a variety of meats. The meat is usually marinated for several days before cooking, giving it a tender and juicy texture. It is often served with traditional German side dishes, such as boiled potatoes and red cabbage.

**Japan Aviation High School**

Located in the city of Kai in Yamanashi Prefecture, the private high school is an academy operated by Japan Aviation and Japan Airlines. The school trains both airline pilots and aircraft technicians.

**De Havilland Dash 8**

The de Havilland Canada Dash 8, more commonly known today as the Bombardier Dash 8, is a serine of twin-engined turboprop airliners introduced in 1984. The aircraft is popular with regional airlines due to its short take-off and landing performance, speed, and low operational costs. More than one thousand Dash 8s have been produced, and it's still in production as of the publication of this chapter.

**Panzerbüsche 39**

The Panzerbüsche 39, often abbreviated as the PzB 39, was a German anti-tank rifle used during World War II. The gun was an improvement of the Mauser 1918 T-Gewehr, which enjoyed considerable success during World War I. The weapon weighted 13 kilograms (28 lb) and had a range of approximately 300m. It fired 7.92x94mm rounds with a muzzle velocity of 1210 m/s. Nearly 40,000 units were produced between 1940 and 1941, but the gun was withdrawal from service in 1944, when it had become virtually useless against new Allied armor. Pak modifies his PzB 39 with a laser sight and a semi-automatic firing mechanism, which gives him greater accuracy and a higher rate of fire.

**MP 40**

Often dubbed the "Schmeisser" by Allied troops, the maschinenpistole 40, more commonly known as the MP 40, was a submachine gun widely used by the Wehrmacht on both the Eastern and Western Fronts. An estimated 1.1 million were produced. It incorporated some very advanced features, including a folding stock and forward grip magazine. The gun was well-received for its compact size, high rate of fire, and reliability. However, the gun had a relative small magazine (32 rounds) and a short range (200m). Pak's choice of weapons gives him excellent firepower within 300m, but he cannot effectively engage targets beyond that distance.

**Pak 36 Anti-tank gun**

The Panzerabwehrkanone 36 (abbreviated as Pak 36; this has nothing to do with Ralf Pak) was an anti-tank gun widely used during World War II. The gun fired a 37 × 249 mm round with a muzzle velocity of 720 m/s. The gun has an effective range of 5000m. While the gun was adequate against light tanks used in the beginning of the war, it proved useless against Soviet T-34 medium tanks, which it was unable to defeat at any distance or angle. The gun was mockingly referred to the "army door-knocking device". Nevertheless, the gun still possessed good accuracy, superb mobility, weighing only 400 kg, and an excellent rate of fire (13 rpm).

**AK-47**

Yuri Orlov (Lord of War): "Of all the weapons in the vast soviet arsenal, nothing was more profitable than Avtomat Kalashnikova model of 1947. More commonly known as the AK-47, or Kalashnikov. It's the world's most popular assault rifle. A weapon all fighters love. An elegantly simple 9 pound amalgamation of forged steel and plywood. It doesn't break, jam, or overheat. It'll shoot whether it's covered in mud or filled with sand. It's so easy, even a child can use it; and they do. The Soviets put the gun on a coin. Mozambique put it on their flag. Since the end of the Cold War, the Kalashnikov has become the Russian people's greatest export. After that comes vodka, caviar, and suicidal novelists. One thing is for sure, no one was lining up to buy their cars."

**Opel Blitz**

The Opel Blitz was a series of German light and middle-weight trucks produced bween 1930 and 1975. The Opel Blitz mentioned in this story is the Blitz 3.6, a three-ton version used extensively by the German military. Many versions were produced to deal with climate conditions on the front lines; some featured all-wheel drive and treads. Over 70,000 were produced during the war, and they proved to be the backbone of German logistical units.

**Mitsubishi Fuso Canter FE60**

The Mitsubishi Fuso Canter FE160 is a medium-duty truck popular for its versatility. The truck is often used for refrigerated transport, although it's also commonly used by construction and landscaping crews. The truck can carry more than 4.5 metric tons. In real life, the truck is equipped with a dual-clutch automated manual transmission, which can be easily used by drivers without experience driving manuals.

**Rung Paisarn RPS-001 assault rifle**

The brainchild of Yim's father, the Rung Parisarn is an assault rifle manufactured by Rung Parisarn Heavy Industries of Thailand. Designed in 1986, it featured components with both the Czechoslovak Vz. 58 and the M16A2. The weapon weighs 3.2 kg is equipped with an iron sight. It fires the 5.56x45mm NATO round at 650 rpm and has an effective range of 400m. The light weight, reliability, and performance of the weapon makes it ideal for Yim.

**Busan, Republic of Korea  
**

Busan, previously Romanized as Pusan, is the second-largest city in South Korea. Situated on the southeastern tip of the Korea Peninsula, the city is home to approximately 3.6 million. The city is constructed in a number of valleys around the Nakdong River, and its residents are treated to stunning views of mountains and the ocean. The city is one of the major cultural and economic centers of East Asia, and its port is the fifth busiest seaport by cargo tonnage.

**Ulsan, Republic of Korea  
**

Located 50 kilometers north of Busan, the city of Ulsan, is the seventh largest city in South Korea. The city is home to 1.1 million people, and it is often considered to be the industrial heart of South Korea. It is home to the world's largest automobile assembly plat and the world's largest shipyard, both operated by Hyundai. The city also boasts a GDP per capita of almost $80,000, the highest in South Korea.

* * *

**Closing: **

**Pak:** Hope you guys enjoyed that cliffhanger ending. I couldn't actually care less about that radio transmission. But this truck though…

**Yim: **What about it?

**Pak: **(Guns engine.) Feel the torque!

**Sandra:** (Sticks head out window.) Feel the power!

**Yim: **Meh, those Dash 8s were better-kah.

**Dima: **(Pulls up alongside the truck in a Mazda CX-5.) Hey guys. Glad you're enjoying the ride.

**Pak: **Totally, man. These new trucks are way better than what I had in Germany.

**Dima: **Good. Speaking of new, introduce yourself, Sandra.

**Sandra: **Hello, 21-guns readers. I'm Aleksandra Winograd. Daughter of StardustNyako. As Pak mentioned earlier, I'm a huge fan of music. I tend to be more into the folk and classical stuff, but I like rock as well. I play the guitar and the piano, and I do a bit of composing as well. I used to perform for the members of the Warsaw Ghetto to lift their spirits.

**Dima:** Why don't you play a few verses for us, Sandra? Help me write a song to impress a girl.

**Sandra: **Maybe in the next episode. But you're going to have to write it anyway.

**Dima:** I suppose that's true. Time to fire up some of the creativity neurons. In the meantime, readers, please leave a review and/or subscribe. I won't bite, unless provoked.

**Yim:** And you can check out my maid uniform on Dima02's DeviantArt account-kah. It's super Kawaii! I promise! (=w=)


	8. Chief Engineer-San

**Chapter 7: Chief Engineer-San (Pak)**

Ulsan. Ulsan. Ulsan. The Grand Mountain...

The name of the city echoed in my mind. How could it be? A city of nearly one million people reduced to just seven? The seventh largest city in Korea reduced to rubble? How did it come to this?

Ulsan. Ulsan. Ulsan.

I was there once. Back in 1935. That was the port where I caught my boat to Manchuria. I was only ten at the time, but my teachers claimed that I had "the intellect of a college graduate." Mitsubishi offered me a chance to study at their logging and mining plants in Manchukuo. Lumber and coal fueled the Sakhalin economy, and Mitsubishi wanted me to learn and improve their factories there. They promised to send me to school in Japan if I did well. It seemed to be the only chance for me and my family to escape poverty, and I was determined to do my best. I did eventually make it to Manchukuo, but I couldn't remember much after that.

Recovering my personal memories could wait. The people in Ulsan couldn't. The radio transmission was still ringing inside my head. What did the radio transmission mean? Were there dead souls like me in Korea? Did they also die mute and inglorious? Were they similarly immortal? What about my own family? Were my parents and siblings still somewhere on Sakhalin Island? They all had miserable lives. And what about my friends in Germany? Were their armies still marching across Europe? Who was still out there? And what were their stories?

I shook my head in disbelief. The radio transmission seemed so real. Those gunshots were clear, and the cries of the announcer were still ringing in my ears. I could feel the cold sweat between my hands and the steering wheel.

"Pak?" Sandra asked, "What was that broadcast?"

"Nothing… nothing of importance." I lied, biting my lips. I don't know why I chose to lie. Maybe I simply didn't want them to worry. Or maybe I was just too shocked to explain. It probably wouldn't have mattered anyway. The broadcast was in Korean, and neither Sandra nor Yim understood a single word of it. But they both knew the sound of sobbing and gunshots.

"It had to be _something_, Pak," Sandra retorted, "That was definitely not music. Although I still found it more pleasant than Skrillex and EDM." Sandra couldn't help but sigh in contempt.

"Urr… It was just an audio drama… war drama. Audio drama adaptation of… um… Ernest Hemingway's _A Farewell to Arms_. It just brought back bad memories from the war. That's all."

Sandra raised an eyebrow. "Was that woman Catherine Barkley? She sounded a tad too young." Sandra pointed out sarcastically. "Or was that supposed to be the girl Henry and Aymo encounter during the retreat to Udine?"

Crap. She knew the novel better than I did. Even my photographic memory was useless. I only skimmed the book. I had stumbled upon a copy in the dark attic of the Munich Technical College; most others were burned in the Nazi bonfires of 1933. "Well… no… not exactly… The girl was just a villager talking about how the Austrians broke through the Italian defenses at Caporetto. I just didn't want to be reminded of the war. Too many innocents like her lost their lives."

"Don't you mean the Germans?" Sandra corrected, with a smirk on her face.

"Right… Germans." There was an awkward pause.

"Care to taste some of these dried mangos, friends?" Yim jumped in, getting me out of my predicament. She was sitting in the center seat, and her lifted pieces of dried mangos for both of us. We both took a piece. Yim was clever when it came to on-the-spot thinking. The mangos distracted Sandra as if she were a macaque monkey.

Yim winked at me. She had another trick up her sleeve. Yim took out her mp3 player and connected it to the truck's stereo system. "Oh, and Sandra, you should totally check out Uncle Bird's music. His actual name is Thongchai McIntyre. I consider him to be Thailand's top star-kah. He was the first Thai artist to receive an international MTV Award. Here's my favorite: _Sabai, Sabai_."

A melodic rhythm flowed from the trucks speakers. The song was cheerful yet clam. It was not as brisk as most K-Pop songs, but it still had a spritely melody. K-pop was like a busy night club, whereas McIntyre was like a relaxing gathering by the beach. The male lead had a soft and relaxed voice. It was a good change of pace from the intense K-Pop and GirlDeMo songs. Sandra enjoyed it even more than I did. She was singing along with the melody, substituting English and Polish for the Thai lyrics. Yim translated between the verses.

"Sabaai sabaai, took jai gor kob gun pbai. Proa chun pben kon mai son aria…"

"I'm easy-going, so see me when you're sad. Because I'm the type who isn't interested in anything…" Yim later told me that the song title meant "happy" and "easy-going". The song was very aptly named. Yim had a very good singing voice too. Sandra and Yim were on par with most of the sopranos at The Staatliches Opereteentheater.

The rest of the trip became a sing-a-long. Yim had some very good taste in music, and Sandra was more than happy to listen. They also, conveniently, occupied the stereo, nullifying my urges to turn the radio back on. I needed to get my mind off of that transmission anyway. Maybe it was just a prank. Maybe it was an actual radio drama. I managed to convince myself to not worry too much about it. Ulsan was very far away, and I couldn't have helped even if I wanted to. Chaa told me that radios and computers in the school could only receive messages, not send them.

No one knew what the broadcast was, anyhow, and no one seemed to care. Yim was busy translating the song lyrics to Sandra, and Sandra was scribbling down her own lyrics to the songs on the dashboard of the vehicle. Most of it was in Polish, but she also wrote in English. She promised to perform them to the Guild next week.

After another twenty minutes of driving and singing, we arrived at an empty parking lot in the mountains. I could see why the SSS liked the location so much. The mountain was mostly covered by forests, but there were also some clearings with small buildings and restrooms. It was an excellent place to get some fresh air, have a picnic, and practice with our weapons. There were lots of wildlife around as well. The chirping of birds and cicadas were a welcome relief from the constant humming and clanging of Guild machinery.

SSS members began unloading the vehicles' cargo. I unhitch the Pak 36 from the back of the truck. The gun, fortunately, was very light. It could be easily moved by two adults, making it ideal in urban and mountainous terrain. It was simple to design and easy to maintain as well, and its advanced optic system made it suitable for use against small targets like Angel. The gun had my name written on it—literally. The gun was Pak's Pak 36.

The gun was usually operated by a crew of three or four. Only the gunner and loader operated the gun itself. The additional crew members assisted the loader and helped with transport. They also had ordinance weapons to defend against enemy infantry.

Since I was the only one who knew how to operate the weapon, I was chosen to be the gunner. Several of the Guild and SSS Combat Division members volunteered to serve as the loader. Yim was especially enthusiastic about it, since she helped produce it in the Guild. I agreed to let her try it out at the first drill.

"Open Fire!" Yurippe shouted, waving around her right arm towards the target—a tall pine tree 1 km away. The artillery piece was already aimed. I only had to press the firing bottom. The gun made a ripping sound like the opening of the zipper on the fly of God Almighty. The gun lapped up dirt and vegetation with a blowtorch a meters long. An explosion rocked the base of the tree. The explosion itself was hardly more powerful than a large hand grenade, but it did not need to be. Yuri told me that close grenade hits were capable of stunning and stopping Angel. A shot like that would have easily definitely stopped her. At more than a kilometer away.

"Hazzah! It works!" I shouted, jumping up in celebration. "Our cannon works!" I had known the components of the gun like the back of my hand, and I was 99% sure that it was going to work. But still, being able to see my invention work filled me with joy. Yim was cheering too. She gave me a tight hug around my waist.

"It works! It works!" Members of the SSS cheered. Some slapped each other on the back. Yuri and Chaa were cheering the loudest. They two walked over and joined our hug.

"The gun works. The gun works." Yim repeated over and over again. "Our gun works."

"Yim and Pak, you guys are now my officially my protégés," Chaa said with a wide smile, "You guys will get permanent priority seating at lunch and at Sandra's performances."

"The SSS congratulates you!" Yuri said, patting both of us on the back. "Silly Angel. I'd love to the look on her face when she sees this weapon. She might finally change expressions for once."

"Her underwear will change colors as well!" Hinata added, generating thunderous laughter from the crowd.

"Guys! Let's give a handful of applause to Pak and Yim for their outstanding work. The crowd did as shell said. People were chanting my name. It was such an honor. I bowed. Yim followed suit.

"You haven't seen anything yet," I said to the crowd, "Wait until you see the rate of fire. Yim, show them!"

We knelt down by the cannon again. Yim opened the breech, removed the spent casing, inserted a new round, and closed the breech within three seconds. All I had to do was to press the firing button. The gun recoiled, and there was another explosion by the base of the tree. Another round had been successfully fired. Yim opened the breech and repeated the process. We could repeat the firing cycle every five seconds.

The rest of the drill involved coordinating our artillery strikes with infantry attacks. Yim and I would first bombard an area high-explosive ammunition to stun Angel. Then, Matsushita would move in to attack with his AT-4 rockets. Large explosions rocked the base of the target birch tree, breaking off its branches. Only the trunk remained.

Then, the SSS members moved in to attack with their firearms. The tree seemed to be engulfed in a sea of tracers. You could see the bark being slowly chipped away. The submachine guns and assault rifles could only break small portions at a time, but Oyama's sniper rifle could break off branches with each and every hit. I set up my PzB 39 to give them some supporting fire, but the laser sight was useless that at range. I made a note to myself to design a telescope sight. The PzB 39 had only an effective range of 300m. It was possible to hit targets up to a kilometer away, but that required a large dosage of luck.

Even though all of the assault team, except Oyama, were firing on the move, their fire was very accurate. I did not know if the accuracy was a result of their modern equipment or their training. It was probably both. Some of them had been in the afterlife school for years. With their skills, equipment, and experience, they probably could have probably outperformed even elite Waffen SS units.

Finally, the assault team closed in on the tree. Some of the members threw smoke grenades to disorientate their "target". Some also threw high-explosive grenades. Then, after the grenades detonated, they closed in with pistols and melee weapons. Noda was the first to reach the target birch tree. He swung his halberd at the tree trunk like an axe. I watched in amazement as the tree trunk split in half. The battle was over.

"What do you think, Pak?" Yurippe asked, "That was our standard assault procedure. You have any suggestions, German military observer?"

"I was an aircraft designer, not a front-line solider," I replied, "But I see a few areas that can be improved."

Yurippe raised an eyebrow, "Please, pray tell."

"Well, instead of attacking from one direction, you could try to attack from multiple directions," I suggested, "Angel is just one target. We can easily flank her."

"Yeah, that's true. We usually do that as well, when we can. Angel is most vulnerable when she is crossing bridges, and this was just practice for those types of attacks."

"I see," I replied, "Why don't you just blow up the bridges? Or the school, for that matter?"

"We blow up bridges as well, occasionally, if we can clear away all the NPCs. But the bridges and buildings in the school 'respawn' a few minutes after they have been blown up. That's how the afterlife works. Most objects cannot be permanently destroyed. Take a look at the target tree."

I looked at the birch tree. Noda's halberd had reduced the tree to a mere stump, but the tree had recovered from the savage attack. I picked up my binoculars to get a better look. Layers of bark were starting to reappear, and the branches were starting to sprout out. Leaves were growing as well. The first pine tree I targeted was completely back to normal.

"That's how things work in the afterlife," Yuri said, "Nothing that was originally here can be destroyed permanently. Whenever we blow up a bridge, the bridge just reappears again after a few minutes, and Angel can cross again. Whenever we blow up a building, the building just rises again. But the things that we make, such as our weapons, can be destroyed. We have to remake them from dirt."

I just nodded. It made a lot of sense. It was no wonder, then, that all those firefights with Angel never left any permanent damage on the buildings.

"Why are you so cautious around NPCs?" I asked, "It's not like that they have souls. And don't they just respawn as well after being killed?"

"They do," Yuri nodded, "And usually with no memory of being killed. At least when they're killed individually. But when they die in large numbers, they tend to remember being hurt in some way. They tell the teachers, and we can end up in a lot of trouble. The teachers can reduce our scholarship funds and ban GirlDeMo performances. Even though they're just NPCs, they can still make our lives very difficult." That made some sense. The scholarships granted by the school were based your academic performance. My scholarship was nearly five times the size of Yuri's. And being at the top also meant that you had access to better lab equipment, better food, and better dorms. My NPC "friends" all complained bitterly about this hierarchical system, but they were all powerless to change it. For them, falling out of favor with the NPC administrators was even worse than Dr. Fuse's chemistry exams.

"And why don't you equip the SSS with more rockets? You said that Angel can absorb and deflect bullets, right?"

"Right, but rockets don't always work either. Angel has a sixth sense when it comes to rockets. It might be due to the smoke trails produced by the rockets. She can usually find a way to dodge Matsushita's AT-4s, and those AT-4s cannot be reloaded. Angel can often deflect our bullet with her blades, but she messes up occasionally. Sometimes, we get lucky and hit her. She recovers very quickly, of course, but we still temporarily stop her."

"I see, so that's why you wanted an artillery piece, huh? So that Angel won't be able to dodge."

"Exactly. We'll have to test it out on her later."

"And have you considered the attaching machine guns to the vans and trucks?"

"We tried, but it wasn't any better than hand-held guns. We figured that concealment was more important and removed them."

"I see," I replied, "But what about tanks and planes?"

Yurippe patted me on the shoulder, "That's what you're here for. I want more than artillery pieces. I want guided missiles, unguided missiles, mortars, armored personnel carriers, whole tank divisions, bombers, jets fighters, destroyers, and battleships. I want to make war against Angel on prairies, in streets, in trenches, on grasslands, on frozen tundras, through deserts, on mountains, on the sea, and in the air. I want to make war against Angel and god in all the ways possible. With all these weapons, I'd be invincible."

The look on Yuri's face was between that of rapture and insanity. She began laughing hysterically. She looked straight up at the sky, as if she were directing her words at god. Her eyes were wide, and her pupils had somehow disappeared. Her mouth was wide open, with her lips forming a huge grin. Her expression was between that of insanity and rapture. I never really got over my first impression that she was a madwoman, and this made me doubt her sanity again.

"Are you the villain?" Yim asked crisply, breaking the trance.

"Thank you the high tension interruption, Yim," Yurippe replied, her expression changing back to normal. "Any other suggestions, chief enginner-san?"

"Have you ever considered using ch…" I stopped myself. I was flabbergasted. How could I think of something like that? Something so terrible and so heinous… I was ashamed of myself. Weapons like that were completely unwarranted.

"Have you ever considered using what?"

"Nothing. It wouldn't work. Nevermind."

"We're all open to suggestions here, Pak. Yim and I aren't going to judge you. You have the most military experience out of all of us."

"I ugg, was going to suggest the usage of flamethrowers," I lied. I was getting better at making these lies up on the spot. "But I really don't know how to make one."

Yuri nodded, "It might be worth a try, but no one knows how to make one. I suppose that we can try learning from a book or something. I still don't know if a weapon like that would work at all against Angel. I'll have to ask Chaa later."

She did not pursue the question any further. The SSS assault team was returning from their exercise. Yuri ran out to greet them with high fives and compliments.

In truth, I did know how to make a flamethrower. They were very simple weapons from an engineering standpoint. The backpack could be made with just compressed nitrogen and a mixture of petrol and a fuel thickener. All the components were probably readily available in the school. I also knew the design of the Flammenwerfer 41 and could easily replicate it. They probably would have been simpler to produce that most of the firearms we used.

But my original suggestion was not flamethrowers. I was going to suggest the use of chemical weapons. I had both a degree in engineering and a degree in chemistry from the Munich Technical University, but I rarely mentioned the latter. I never met Fritz Haber, but I had met with many of his students. I worked briefly at IG Farben under Philippe Hörlein, who was developing new synthetic routes for mustard gas. I also knew how to produce phosgene gas, sarin, and tabun. The latter two were never used, at least not before my death, but mustard gas and phosgene gas were commonly used in WWI. Mustard gas caused severe skin burns and blisters, and phosgene gas attacked the respiratory system, causing irritation and, eventually, suffocation. Sarin and tabun were both nerve agents, causing loss of bodily control. Germany had developed artillery shells to load sarin gas, but it was never used on the Allies. I did not intend to test it out either. Not even against Angel. The Nazis were not even cruel enough to test use them on humans…

But Angel. Was she human?

Was her mind a cluster of a hundred billion neurons? Or was it a bunch of electrical circuits and switches? Did she breathe oxygen and derive energy from food? Or was she powered by electricity and servos? And was her skin made up of cells? Or just layers of plastic and rubber? What about that blade? Was that metal? Or it an organic compound?

Phosgene gas and mustard gas.

Yes. That would do the trick. Both were easy to synthesize and difficult to detect. I could have probably done it using equipment from the chemical department. Neither of them required complicated materials. Phosgene gas could be produced by passing purified carbon monoxide and chlorine through activated carbon catalyst. Chlorine could be obtained at the pool, and carbon monoxide could be generated by passing steam over hot carbon coal. All three components were easy to obtain. And even if I failed to produce phosgene gas, I would still have enough carbon monoxide to incapacitate Angel. Mustard gas could be produced by treating sulfur dichloride with ethylene. Ethylene was readily available inside the chemistry labs, and sulfur dichloride could be made by mixing sulfur with chlorine. There must have been sulfur in the Guild. It always smelled like sulfur down there. Was it possible to turn dirt into sulfur as well? Could there be some sulfur in the chemistry department stockpile as well? Yes. There was probably some sulfur there. If I could get my hands on all the equipment, I could probably get enough gas within a few days.

I wasn't sure how the NPC students would react to the toxic gases, if at all. Neither compound was particularly smelly, anyhow. Phosgene was nearly odorless, and mustard gas only had a faint radish smell. I could probably just cover up the smell with food. Symptoms of exposure to either gas were also slow to appear. Mustard gas burns do not usually appear until a day after exposure, and the symptoms of phosgene exposure take hours to appear. I could just pump the gases into her dorm room and observe the effects in class the next day. These gases were ideal for testing Angel. I just had to find out where she lives and get the right chemicals…

"Pak, Pak. Are you alright?" Yim whispered, waving her hand on front of my face.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just thinking about battle tactics and ambush positions at school." My lying skills were improving gradually throughout the day, and I could make them at least somewhat convincing. "What's up next?"

"Lunch is next. Then we get to hear Sandra sing for us. After that, we planned out a few more drills, and we can hike a bit in the afternoon and have a picnic-kah. We leave for school just before the sun sets. And oh yeah. Wait here. I prepared something for you." She ran off in the direction of the Mitsubishi truck and returned with her backpack. She took out two bento boxes and gave one to me.

"Here. I prepared something special for you-kah. Just don't tell the other guys, or they might start to get jealous."

"Thanks!" I gladly accepted the bento box. Yim was an amazing cook, and she was quite proud of that too. Her breakfast was fantastic, and I couldn't wait to see what she made me for lunch. There was a sweet aroma coming from the box.

The bento was simple but elegant. It consisted mostly of spliced mangos and white rice, with sprinkles of coconut powder on top. She even left two mint leafs on the top of the rice to make it more visually appealing. The smell alone made my mouth water.

We ate on some picnic tables in front of an observation tower. Many of the SSS members walked over to personally congratulate Yim and me on the success of our artillery piece, offering us soft drinks and some of their food. They were a gregarious bunch.

"Could you design a new baseball pitching machine for me?" Hinata asked, stuffing his mouth with rice, "The ones used by the school aren't fast enough. I need something more challenging."

"Could you make fireworks for the next GirlDeMo concert?" Yui asked. Her eyes seemed to be sparkling, "It'll be so awesome. Fireworks and GirlDeMo are like the best things in the world."

"Dude, that cannon was a blast," TK congratulated me, "Dang gone it. Biggest bang since the King of Pop." He did some strange dance moves.

"Try some of these potato chips," Oyama said, offering a bag. "It'd be awesome if you could let me try out some of you PzB 39 later. If it's not too inconvenient for you, of course. I'd love to try out an actual anti-tank rifle." Why was there always a catch? But I agreed anyway. He could offer me some much-needed experience handling large guns like that.

"Congrats on the good work today," Fujimaki slapped me on the back, hard enough to make me cough up my food, "By the way, could you make a laser katana?"

"And a laser halberd for me," Noda added, "I want a titanium one that can shoot lasers in all directions."

Sandra sneaked up behind the two morons and smashed their heads together with a resounding bang. "Leave him alone, morons," Sandra complained, "Can't you guys let him eat in peace."

"Ur… Thanks, Sandra… And sorry guys, I don't know how lasers work."

Fujimaki gave her a dirty look but stayed quiet. Noda didn't say anything either. Hinata and Oyama scooted to make room for Sandra.

"I see that Yim cooked for you," Sandra observed, taking out her bento box of pierogi, "You can tell by the smell. It's very good." I nodded and immediately felt a series of hard kicks to my shins and saw a few jealous looks.

The rest of the lunch consisted of just random small talk. We chatted about our food, clothing, complemented each other on their equipment, and complained about the difficulty of calculus problem sets (which I felt were a piece of cake). The conversation started to fragment after a while. Yim and Sandra discussed music, Takamatsu and Noda talked about bodybuilding, and Oyama discussed potato chips with TK. Matsushita was too preoccupied with his udon to say anything, and Yuri was eating at another table with the Yui and Yusa.

Hinata and Fujimaki, both die-hard baseball fans, were arguing about the upcoming baseball games. Hinata was still a fan of his old team—the Hokkaido Nippon-Ham Fighters, in spite of his past. In 2009, he missed a fly ball during an important baseball game, costing his team the championship. One of his teammates offered him drugs to curb his depression, and he became addicted. The drugs rapidly degraded his mental sharpness. When he finally noticed that truck plowing towards him, it was too already late…

Fujimaki was from Nagoya. He was a fan of the Chunichi Dragons—the winners in 2007. Even though they won in 2007, they apparently have a very poor record. Hinata was mocking them until Fujimaki hit him with his shirasaya. That temporarily quieted him.

Fujimaki was also an athlete. He came from a long line of kendo masters. He was very good at it, but he hated the strict discipline involved. He ran away from home when he was fifteen and joined a Yakuza organization in Nagoya, dealing drugs, extorting local stores, and operating illegal gambling dens. He wanted to make a name for himself and become the oyabun. But his recklessness and ambition soon earned the ire of his kyodai, who tied him up and threw him into a river. His body was never recovered, and he is still classified as missing by the police.

Chaa and I were both practical men who wanted to solve technical problems. The Tunnels to the Guild were never really designed to handle heavy equipment like artillery pieces and tanks. We had to expand. I proposed a rail system, but Chaa didn't like the idea. He was a fortunate survivor of a train derailment accident in Tokyo in 2000. The speeding train derailed at a bend in an underground tunnel. Chaa himself managed to escape with minor injuries, but many were not so lucky. The cars at the front of the train were trapped inside the tunnel, and many survivors died of dehydration before rescue workers arrived. The story made headlines all around the world, which unanimously praised the heroism of the survivors. I felt sorry for the victims. Dehydration must have been a terrible way to die. At least my death was quick.

After the meal, Sandra performed an amazing rendition of _The Battle Hymn of the Republic_. I understood all the lyrics, and it was very moving. But words like freedom and truth were not.

The afternoon was filled with more drills. We practiced an indoor raid against Angel. Matsushita kicked down the front doors of one of the cabins, Hinata threw in a smoke grenade, and we shot the hell out of the target soup cans. My MP 40 performed very well in these confined spaces. It was light and reliable, and the laser sight allowed me to aim quickly and accurately in the dark. The accuracy and firepower were still inferior to those of newer weapons like Takamatsu's MP-5, but it still got the job done. The MP 40 had very little recoil, and that made it easier for me to generate a stream of accurate fire.

Drills later in the afternoon took place in groups. I instructed some of the SSS members on using the artillery piece. They were quick to learn, and some were able to operate it with just a few minutes of instruction. Oyama also taught me the principles of snipping. My PzB 39 was an anti-tank rifle, not a sniper rifle, but the two had some very similar characteristics. I gave Oyama the honor of being the first person to fire it outside the Guild.

Oyama aimed the gun at a small birch tree 200 meters away. He pulled the trigger. The gun made a huge boom when it fired, almost as loud as the artillery piece. The tungsten round pieced right through the center of the tree trunk, leaving behind a ragged hole.

"It works!" Oyama gave me a high five. His tank top revealed a large bruise on his shoulder, but he did not seem to care much.

"There's definitely a lot of recoil," Oyama commented, rubbing the bruise, "But the firepower is great. And it's semi-automatic too?"

"Yeah," I replied, "Try it out." Oyama found another target and pressed the trigger three times in rapid succession. A large willow tree swayed and toppled to the ground.

"That's amazing," Oyama said, his voice trembling with excitement, "You should make one of these for me too, Pak."

I smiled. "It's a good gun," I replied, "But it can't replace your Remington 700. The effective firing range is only 300m. The bullet can actually travel more than a kilometer, but it's inaccurate and can't penetrate crap. I'm planning on making a newer version with a new scope and lengthened barrel." Those were always good ways of improving accuracy. Neither should take too long.

"It's your turn now," Oyama said, "Just watch out for the recoil. There's a lot of vertical recoil, but horizontal recoil is hardly noticeable. You should also pad the butt of the gun."

I pierced down the sights of the anti-tank rifle and aimed at another pine tree. I squeezed the trigger. There was a thunderous bang. The butt of the rifle kicked hard against my shoulder. When the smoke had cleared away, I could see a huge hole in the hole of the tree. I fired three other rounds in rapid succession. The tree swayed like a drunk man and then fell down to earth.

The smile on my face couldn't have been any bigger. All three of my weapons had been successfully tested. I was now ready for the fight against Angel.

After the drills concluded, the SSS got together for a hike up one of the mountains. We brought our cooking gear, enjoyed some of TK's North Carolinian barbeque, and watched the sunset.

"So the NPCs were right about us being on an island," I remarked, taking in the mountain air and scenic views. We could not see the entire inland, but it was still easy to tell that we were on one. We were surrounded by the ocean. The view was breath-taking. Everything was covered in a golden hue. There were small picturesque towns scattered throughout the island. The school seemed so small and so distant. My problems with Angel seemed so minuscule.

"See that over there, Pak?" Hinata said, pointing towards a landmass near our island, "That's Busan. Or at least that's what the NPCs tell us. I played a few times at the Sajik Stadium there. I really liked the city. Lots of good beaches there."

I looked at the landmass through a pair of binoculars. The seas were calm, and visibility was very good. I could even see the glass exteriors of the skyscrapers making up the Busan skyline. Everything seemed to be fine. No fires. No explosions, and no signs of fighting. The city seemed very peaceful.

I began to doubt the accuracy of the radio transmission from earlier that day. If the communists had really surrounded Ulsan, they probably would have also been within approximately forty kilometers of Busan. That was well within range of railway artillery. If the communists were really that close, then Busan would have probably been engulfed in flames. The radio transmission was either wrong or very misleading. It was possible that Ulsan was just experiencing a riot. It could have been something as simple as a confrontation some local unions and factory managers who decided to take refuge in the broadcasting center. Maybe the "seven of us" only referred to these managers or radio station workers, not the populace of the city. "Thousands of communists" was a good turnout for a demonstration, but such low numbers would have hardly sufficed when attacking a city like Ulsan. (AN: In Korean, "thousands" is "sucheon", and "tens of thousands" is a "suman". The announcer used "sucheon", which implies that the number of communists is lower than ten thousand.)

I shook my head. I had gotten all worked up over what was probably just a simple riot. My mind always had a way of making the most relaxing trips stressful. One derived strength from joy. Not from worry.

I closed my eyes, leaning against the trunk of an old tree. The sun cast an orange haze above the horizon, lighting up the sky as if lit by fire, yet the haze was so crisp and clear. The sun had its time to shine for the time it was allowed, and it now seemed to whisper "farewell" to the world as it sunk lower and lower in a lazy manner, almost as if it never wanted to leave.

But I knew that I too had to leave soon. The drive back to the school was going to be long. I leaned off the tree, walking down the dirt paths towards the parking lot. A cool breeze passed, making me stop in the middle of the field. It was almost like a human touch.

I looked at the sun again. The sun was almost as orange as the sky, like a ghost, almost. Yet even from behind the pine trees, it seemed to stare at me. The very thing that gave warmth, life, light and happiness to so many could just as easily cause utter destruction. That reminded me of my own creations.

The events of the day were going through my mind like a film reel as I navigated the path down the mountain. By the time I got down, the sun was gone, leaving behind a sea of dark, lonely clouds in a twilight sky. The heavens were beginning to litter the stars about, for it was their turn to shine.

The world was a constantly changing place. People and things change, just like the seasons, and that was alright. Like the sun, everyone had their time to shine. Soon, it was going to be my time to shine.

It was already dark by the time we finally got back to the Afterlife Academy. We were the last vehicle in the convoy to get back, thanks to a flat tire. It took me twenty minutes to get the tire replaced. As I drove the truck into the parking lot, I noticed a crowd of SSS members gathered in front of the dining hall. They were gesturing at me with flashlights. I jumped out of the truck and headed to the dining hall.

"Hey Pak," Yuri said, pointing to a figure lying on the ground, "Take a look at our future member."

I looked down. On the ground was a teenage boy dressed in the standard school uniform. The boy was sleeping on his back, with his arms and legs sprawled out on the concrete. He had smooth orange hair and a peaceful look on his face. He looked to be around my age.

"Strange…" Chaa said, scratching his chin, "I've seen this face somewhere. It was a really long time ago though. I can't really remember now."

"Was he in the military?" Yuri asked.

"No. Not the military. It must have been around 2000, when I was working in Tokyo. I can't remember the specifics though."

"It doesn't matter much anyway," Yuri shrugged, "Don't know if this one has amnesia though. I guess that we'll see when he wakes up."

"Should we carry him into the medical ward, Yurippe?" Hinata asked.

"No, just leave him here for now," Yuri replied, "I'm exhausted. Let's just set up…"

"Guys!" Oyama interrupted in a trembling voice, "I hate to be rude, but I see Angel."

"Where?" Everyone seemed to jump at once.

"Down there, by the truck," Oyama replied, pointing at the parking lot. I looked. It was Angel down there alright. The headlights of the truck were still on, illuminating the parking lot. Angel was slowly walking towards the box truck from the front. She didn't have her weapons deployed, but she was still alert. She paused by the Pak 36 canon and started looking around. We ducked beneath the concrete fence to avoid being spotted.

"You really should have turned off the lights, Pak." Sandra complained. I grumbled, cursing my luck. I was in too much of a hurry. I had left the lights on and the engine running. That must have attracted Angel's attention. The towed artillery piece didn't help either.

"Crap," I muttered, "The Pak 36 is still hitched. All my guns are still down there."

"Along with most of the Guild members' weapons," Sandra added. It was true. I should have brought along my MP 40 and P38 with me when I left the truck. I usually carried the pistol in my jacket, but I took that off when changing the tire. Yim and Sandra also left their weapons in the back of the cab. Yuri and most of the assault team still had their weapons, but the three of us was completely unarmed.

"Guild members," Yuri ordered, "Go back to your dorms and get some rest. The assault team can defend the new guy. Stay quiet."

We didn't need to be told twice. We crawled into the dining hall and then headed back to the dorms. I really wanted to save my weapons and all my hard work, but I couldn't do much with Angel around. At least I knew that all those weapons worked well. I could replicate most of them in just a few hours.

I took a shower and brushed my teeth. I still felt a bit overwhelmed by the day's events. A camping trip, a false distress signal from Ulsan, successful weapons tests, and a new member. It was just too much. I crashed onto my bed and went to sleep.

* * *

**Jargon Dictionary:**

**Manchukuo:**

Manchukuo was a Japanese puppet state in Northeastern China and Inner Mongolia that existed between 1932 and 1945. The de jure head of state was Puyi, the last Qing emperor, but government administration was under the strict control of the Japanese. The state was home to 30 million people, of which approximately 10 million were mobilized by the Kwangtun Army for slave labor. The residents also saw some of the worst war crimes of World War II, which were committed by the infamous Unit 731.

**Staatliches Opereteentheater:**

Now known as the Komische Oper Berlin, the Staatliches Opereteentheater was an opera house in Berlin. The theatre itself was built in 1891 and could house 2500 people. The theatre was nationalized and renamed in 1934 and served under the Nazi Strength through Joy program. Although badly damaged by Allied bombers during World War II, the theater was successfully repaired. It still operates today as a member of the Berlin Opera Foundation.

**Flammenwerfer 41:**

The flammenwerfer 41 became the standard flamethrower for the Wehrmacht in 1941. The flamethrower used a hydrogen torch to ignite a tar and petrol mixture, which was stored in separate 11.8L tanks. It had a range of 32 meters (105ft) and weighed 28.7kg (63lb).

**Fritz Haber:**

The winner of the Nobel Prize in Chemistry in 1918, Fritz Haber was a German chemist famous for his work in organic chemistry. The Haber-Bosch process he devised synthesizes ammonia from nitrogen and hydrogen, allowing for the large-scale production of fertilizers and explosives. His methods are used to fertilize half of the world's food supply. He is also dubbed the father of chemical warfare for this work in developing chemical weapons during World War I.

**IG Farben:**

IG Farben was a German chemical industry conglomerate that operated between 1925 and 1951. It was once the largest chemical company in the world. During World War II, the company collaborated closely with the Nazi government. The company owned the patent for Zyklon B, which was used in Holocaust gas chambers. After the war, many of the company's employees were tried for war crimes. Heinrich Hörlein, the head of chemical research, was tried and acquitted.

**Nagoya:**

The fourth largest city in Japan, the city of Nagoya serves as the capital of Aichi Prefecture and is home to one of Japan's major ports. The city is home to 9.1 million people. The city is considered the chief city in central Japan, and as a result, its baseball team is named the Chunichi Dragons, highlighting its origins in the "middle of Japan". The baseball team has had little success in playoffs, only winning 2 titles since 1947.

**Yakuza:**

The yakuza refers to organized criminal syndicates in Japan. These syndicates are notorious for their strict codes of conduct and discipline. The oyabun (family boss) is serves as the boss of the organization, while the kyodai (big brothers) keep watch over shatei (little brothers) and lead local operations.

**Sajik Stadium:**

The Busan Sajik Baseball Stadium is a large baseball stadium in the Dongnae-gu district of Busan. The stadium has a capacity of 27500 and is home to the Lotte Giants baseball team. The stadium is the second largest in Korea.

* * *

**Closing: **

**Pak vs. T.K. Barbeque Contest: Korean vs. American  
**  
**Pak:** Done! Told you I'd finish first. Sandra, Yim, come taste this Chongjin-style Korean BBQ. It's an ancient formula passed down from many generations. Before coking, I marinate the meat with a mixture of soy sauce, sugar, sesame oil... and-wait! Why am I revealing the secret family formula? Just enjoy it.

**Sandra:** This reminds me of the kotlet schabowy we used to have in Poland. But the sauces give it a completely different taste. I've never had Korean BBQ before. Oh, how did I live back then?

**Yim:** Nomnomnomnomnomnomnom... So good. So juicy and tender-kah. Could use more spices though.

**Pak:** Here, take this bottle of gochujang. It has quite a kick.

**Yim:** Oh yeah. Here is the good stuff... Ahh, I'm sweating so much. But I can't stop eating-kah.

**Pak:** Beat that, Yankee.

**T.K.**: Come at me, bro. This North Carolina gourmet is much better than the North Korean crap you cook.

**Pak:** Care to put your money where your mouth is, T.K.? Let the girls judge.

**T.K.**: Sure. I shall prevail. Unlike you, I use every part of the hog 'cept the squeal. First, I marinate everything in my homemade North Carolina barbeque sauce. Then, I slow-cook them to tenderize the meat. You can't just rush through cooking, Pak.

**Sandra:** This is incredible. The meat just falls right off the bone.

**Yim:** So sweet and sour. I love it.

**Pak + T.K.:** So who wins?

**Sandra and Yim:** ...

**AN:** Please do not try any of the chemical reactions at home. They are based on actual chemical processes, and they are highly dangerous. I'm in no way responsible if you get hurt. In no way do I condone the use of chemical warfare.

This has been the longest chapter. I know that the story has been a bit slow, but it'll start to pick up soon. I hope that you liked the background stories I created for Fujimaki. The story is not canon.

Speaking of what's canon, I would just like to take this time to make some comments about this story and the newly released visual novel. Unfortunately, there are a number of inconsistences between this story and the visual novel. The canon visual novel states that the Afterlife School is surrounded by an indestructible wall and that food simply materializes each morning. It also states that most of the SSS members have been in the afterlife for decades. My story clearly contradicts these two facts, but it can't be helped. The plot of this story requires an entire world of dead spirits.

Also, I've been feeling that I haven't been giving enough attention to the canon characters, some of whom have had only one or two lines in the story. As such, I'm making some changes to my OC submission policy. Your character cannot be a pre-existing SSS member. They still can join the SSS after their arrival in the afterlife. They can also be already present in the school but not a part of the SSS. Please PM me if you need any clarification about this policy.

Thank you so much for waiting. Please leave a review and/or fav!


	9. Renfield Syndrome

**Chapter 8: Renfield Syndrome (Pak)**

Stalin once said that artillery was the god of war, and I find it hard to disagree with him. The majority of casualties in the Napoleonic Wars, World War I, and World War II were caused by artillery, and it's estimated that artillery was responsible for 60% to 70% of casualties on the Eastern Front. Most movies gloss over the role of artillery, preferring to focus on quick and action-packed firefights and awe-inspiring charges. Those played important roles too, but neither was as devastating as a good artillery barrage. General William Sherman said it best. A battery of field artillery is worth a thousand muskets.

Fortunately, the SSS never had to fight with muskets. We had 21st century assault rifles, submachine guns, sniper rifles, recoilless rifles, pistols, revolvers, swords, grenades, and a halberd. We fought hard, but our rifles were not enough against Angel. Things soon changed after I arrived down in the Guild. Artillery canons were finally rolling down the Guild production lines. There weren't enough guns to form an artillery battery, but they still gave us a huge boost in firepower. Napoleon once said that god fights on the side with the best artillery. I still wasn't too sure whether god would fight against his own servant, but we were about to find out.

In order to test the effectiveness of our artillery against Angel, Yuri added an additional element of surprise to Operation Tornado. Instead of just guarding the GirlDeMo concert, the SSS was going to be on the offensive. We were going to ambush Angel as she makes her way to the concert. I made two new Pak 36 guns with Flakvisier 40 reflector sights and painted them with special forest camouflage. The two guns were set alongside the path between the girls' dormitory and the auditorium. Yuri gave me the honor of taking the first shot. She needed the first shot to hit. Angel is virtually invincible when she deploys her shield.

Because the ambush required a lot of manpower, Yuri could only spare a handful of members to defend the auditorium. Otonashi, who had just awoken the day before, was assigned to guard one of the key bridges there. He did not have any firearms experience before his death, and he couldn't even remember his full name. I felt that it was a very risky decision, but Yuri didn't think so. Our ambush, not Otonashi, was the primary defense.

"I see movement to the right of the incinerator," I whispered to Yuri "Is that Angel?"

Yuri peaked her head out of the bushes and looked through her binoculars. "No. It's just some random NPC. Be patient."

I crouched down and went back to adjusting the canon's sights. The dormitories were unusually quiet for this hour. There were a few NPCs walking around, but the majority of them were at the GirlDeMo concert. It was a shame that I couldn't go myself. Their music was so powerful and energetic. I was half a kilometer away from the auditorium, but I could still clearly hear the melody. Rock was not my favorite genre of music, but it was undeniable that the GirlDeMo girls were incredibly talented.

The sound of the music were soon supplanted by the sound of approaching footsteps and panting. I looked back. Takamatsu was sprinting towards us as full speed. He was gesturing and shouting wildly at us, but his words were garbled. I couldn't understand what he was saying until he was right in front of us.

"Angel attacked the auditorium from West Bridge!" Takamatsu shouted, "She has Otonashi cornered. You have to help him."

"Dammit" I cursed, slamming my fist against the barrel of the cannon. Not only had Angel found a way around our ambush, she had found a way to attack our weakest member. Otonashi had just arrived the day before, and I didn't even know if Yuri bothered to arm him. I looked at Yuri, who was clenching her teeth in frustration. After a few moments of deliberation, she gave out the orders: "Pak, Yim, Sandra. You three move the artillery. The rest of you, grab your guns and follow me. Rendezvous at auditorium." She loaded her Beretta 92FS and ran off, with the rest of the combat team following her.

"Are you two ready?" I asked, retracting the stabilizers of the cannon. Yim nodded. Sandra's facial expression made it seem as if she couldn't have cared less, but she was holding a box of shells in her arms. That was all that mattered.

Yim and I each grabbed one of the ends of the stabilizers and made a beeline for the cafeteria. We had practiced transporting the cannon numerous times, but we always practiced on hard and empty ground. The shortcut to the cafeteria was neither hard nor empty. Yim tripped on a tree root, and I almost lost my left eye to a tree branch. Tanks or jeeps would have been very helpful in those situations, but Yuri didn't believe that we needed any. She was very wrong, but I didn't bother to argue otherwise. I made a note to myself to be more assertive next time.

As I got closer to the cafeteria, I could see tracers being deflected towards the sky. The sheer volume of unrelenting gunfire reminded me of the anti-aircraft artillery fire during bombing raids. A tracers deflected horizontally every now and then, breaking streetlamps and shattering windows. A few whizzed past us as we struggled to set up the artillery in the darkness.

The SSS team members formed an arc in front of Angel, blasting away at her with their weapons. Such firepower would have been enough to rout entire battalions, but they had no effect on Angel. She just stood there, like a tank, as the bullets simply bounced off her shield.

Suddenly, something made Angel jump back. A rocket launched from the rooftop of the auditorium exploded just a few meters away from Angel. A sound of smoke enveloped the ground. The smell of gunpowder was in the air.

During the firefight, Yim and I managed maneuver the artillery behind Angel without soliciting her attention. Yim and Sandra deployed the stabilizers as I took aim. I set the sights on the center of Angel's back.

"Quickly, load the armor-piercing shell," I instructed Yim. I heard the breach open and shut. Yim gave me a nod. I pressed the trigger. The gun let out a big bang as the armor-piercing round rocketed towards its target.

What happened next stunned every member of the Battlefront. The shell flew true to its target. It hit Angel right in the back. The shield either didn't extend to cover her back or was penetrated by the shell. The shot penetrated her body, left behind a gaping wound in her torso. She stumbled and looked back with a shocked expression on her face. A second later, she collapsed onto the bloody concrete.

* * *

**Yuri's POV:**

We could only watch in dead silence as Angel fell to the ground. Her body twitched for few seconds on the ground before becoming motionless. It was only then that the SSS burst into pandemonium. Assault team members fired their guns into the air. Takamatsu threw his jacket into the sky, slapped the tree in front of him with his shirt, and shouted, "Victory! Victory! Vicotry!" Even Shiina let out a cheer of joy.

The grin on my face could not have been bigger. "Hinata, go fetch me some rope," I ordered, "We can't let her escape. No. Wait. I have a better plan. Noda, go retrieve your halberd. We're going to chop off her legs. We can't let her get away this time."

An ebullient Pak ran out of the bushes, cheering in German. Yim and Sandra were not far behind him. I rushed forward to give the girls a tight group hug. It was our moment of victory. The original ambush failed, but we still managed to snatch victory form the jaws of defeat. Of course, Pak deserved most of the credit. The SSS had fought Angel for almost a decade, but we only managed to injure her a few times. Pak managed to kill Angel in less than two weeks. The facts spoke for themselves.

"Pak! You're a genius!" I hollered, "You're the real hero of the SSS. I'll personally see to it that you get the best accommodations in the school. From now on, you'll be the new head of the design division. Yim can be your secretary. You'll get all the materials you want. Your weapons are worth their weight in gold."

My voice was drowned out by thunderous cheering. The guys were slapping Pak on the back. The larger crowd that gathered around Yim and Sandra was throwing the two in the air, much to the former's delight. Yim had a fascination with heights. It took minutes for the cheering to die down.

Pak didn't really seem to notice all the celebrations and smiles. He stood motionless over Angel's bloody corpse, as if deep in thought. Otonashi, the new guy, walked up to him.

"Thanks for saving me back there," Otonashi said with a kind smile, "That was a great shot." The newcomer then squatted down to examine Angel's corpse. "You broke three of her thoracic vertebrae and pierced a lung and her liver. Injuries like that aren't enough to cause instant death, but they're definitely fatal."

Much like Pak, Otonashi still retained much of his semantic memory. I figured that he was probably a medical student or a paramedic in his past life. Those skills were not essential to the SSS, but they were not useless either. Injuries still heal faster when they're treated.

"A pleasure," Pak replied in a strange, unusually deep voice, "But that's not all. She'll have to pay for her crimes against us." He slowly took out his MP 40 and aimed it down at Angel. His voice dropped another octave. "This is vengeance, Otonashi. This is justice."

"Don't overdo it, Pak" I shouted at him, "We need to let her respawn and question her!"

Pak acted as if he were caught in a trance. He turned away from me, switched off the safety, and fired an entire magazine into Angel's corpse. Her shields were no longer active, and the bullets ripped apart Angel's midriff. When the MP 40 ran out of ammunition, he took out his P38 and unloaded another clip into Angel's chest. Blood splattered across the ground. Some of the SSS members began to scream.

"That's enough, Pak!" I shouted, "Stop that this instant!"

Pak dropped the smoking pistol. I almost expected him to turn around and apologize. But instead, he descended on Angel's with an utility knife, slashing her carotid artery. Angel's heart was already stopped, so the blood only oozed out slowly. Pak stabbed her again and again, grunting in frustration. Then, in an act of insane depravity, he threw away the knife and bit down on the side of Angel's neck. He spit out the bloody flesh a moment later. It was only then that we could see his face.

Pak's face were covered in blood, and his usual smile had degenerated into a wicked grin. His eyepatch had slide off, revealing a dark red scar where his right eye should have been. His teeth were still embedded in Angel's neck, and he was trying to suck blood from Angel's wound. Tears were streaming down his face, but he was grinning nonetheless. I was greatly saddened to see him like this. His face kept on twitching, as if he were being shocked with electricity. Angel, in contrast, never looked so peaceful and innocent.

The GirlDeMo concert reached a climax, and meal tickets fell from the sky. As if it were a signal, Pak stopped laughing. He held his head low to the concrete. Then, with utter fear and shock, we watched as his tongue lapped at the blood like a horse at a water trough.

"Pak-kah…" Yim started forward, but Sandra grabbed her arm.

"It's not Pak," Sandra said, "Look at his eye." She pointed to Pak, whose other eye had turned completely blank. The eye was completely glazed over, as if his iris had expanded over his pupil.

"What happened? What the hell is wrong with him?" Oyama asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

Otonashi thought for a moment. "Renfield syndrome… It's probably a combination of hallucinations and Renfield syndrome. I'm sure of it."

Yim shook off Sandra's grip and strode forward, knelling by Pak and nudging him. "Pak… Pak, look at me. Are you oka-"

"Yim! Watch out!" Otonashi shouted.

Pak lunged forward, seizing Yim by the arm with his teeth and locking on to her like a hound. Yim recoiled for a moment but then held her hand up. "Let him be."

"But Yim, that's a bit…" I stuttered.

Yim only flexed her writs, opening the wound in order to let him drink freely. "Drink to your heart's content, Pak," Yim said with a smile, "We owe you one after all-kah."

Pak drank greedily, but within moments, he recoiled form her arm, coughing and choking. Pak shook out of his trance, his eye changing back to their original gold color. He gagged and spat out a mouth full of blood on the floor before doubling over and hyperventilating.

Yim ran her hand up his bloody cheek. "Are you okay, Otouto-chan, um… Pak?"

Pak looked up at her through his teary eyes. "Nuna… Сестричка… Yim?"

He grabbed her wrist and stared, his eye widening. He traced his fingers along his bloody lips, finally letting go of Angel's body.

"You didn't hurt me," Yim assured Pak, "I'm already healing, see? Everything is alright-kah."

It was only then that Pak noticed Angel's body. He shrieked in horror, jumping away from the pool of blood. "WHAT HAPPENED?" Pak cried out, "DID I DO THAT?" His voice was shrill now, but it was back to its normal register. He stumbled backwards, his face full of shock and disbelief.

"Come with me," Yim said calmly, "You're just stressed, that's all-kah. You just need some tea and a long bath." Yim was still clearly in a lot of pain, but she hid it well. She extended her other hand towards Pak and pulled him up. She led him away from the auditorium.

"I hope Yim recovers soon," Oyama commented, "She really put herself on the line."

"I knew that there was something fishy about him," Fujimaki said, "I never thought that he'd do something like this though."

"What do you think that was about, Yurippe?" Hinata asked.

"What do _you_ think happened to him, Otonashi?" I asked the new guy, who seemed to be lost in thought.

Otonashi nodded. "I have theories about why this happened, but I can't be sure. Pak's past might also have something to do with it… We have a lot of work ahead of us, unfortunately."

Hinata shrugged slightly. Some of the meal tickets he stuffed under his arms were blown away by the wind. "Beats me. At least we managed to kill Angel and protect the concert."

"It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world," TK added.

"Give the guy a break," Sandra joined in, "The guy managed to kill Angel, didn't he? So what if he wasted some ammunition? Angel got what she deserved." She kicked Angel's corpse, as if trying to make a point.

"I'd be willing to call this a victory," Takamatsu suggested, "We did what we came out here to do. Yim got hurt slightly, but things could have been a lot worse."

"I won't have mercy on her either," Noda added, brandishing his halberd, "You said you wanted her legs cut off, Yurippe-san?"

"Yes. And take the rest of her body to the Guild prison," I replied, "Make sure to tie her up tight. We can't let her get away." The Guild prison was a deep pit that was designed for punishing misbehaving SSS members. It was never used, so we converted it into a holding cell for Angel instead. It was designed in a way such that Angel would not be able to use her Hand Sonic blades to cut herself free. It was one of the best-guarded secrets of the Guild.

"Will do, Yurippe-san," Noda answered. He started to swing the halberd and hack away at Angel's legs. I looked away. I had seen enough of violence for one day.

"Very well then," I nodded, "We'll call tonight's operation a success. Guild members, you are now dismissed for the day. Assault team members, meet me tonight in an hour in the principal's office. Don't tell Pak about this. Operation concluded!"

That night, the SSS held an emergency meeting in the principal's office. The room was packed full of people. Even Yim showed up with a bandage on her wrist. Noda was absent, having taken Angel's corpse down into the Guild prison and secured her to the tethers, and Sandra had put Pak to sleep with one of her lullabies. He had been babbling madly and convulsing uncontrollably, and he still talked in his sleep. Most of his babbles were in German and Russian, but Sandra recognized some phrases about his sisters, the Holocaust, and socialism. They also told me about the strange Korean broadcast during the camping trip and how much it upset Pak. Pak was starting to recover his memories, and he was becoming mentally unstable. That worried me more than Angel.

The translated NKVD records did state that Pak worked on chemical weapons used in the Holocaust, but it never talked about his siblings, his health, or his role in the Holocaust. To find out, we had to manually translate all of his German documents. We didn't bother with them earlier, but we weren't lazy anymore. Members worked furiously in the computer lab, using the translation software to translate his German and Russian records into Japanese. Runners brought the files to the principal's office in heavy binders. The efficiency of the work was admirable, but the translations were a jumble. Google Translate had its limits.

Otonashi was now the center of attention. He was sorting through the classified dossier on Pak, making rough sketches and notes, which he arranged like a puzzle. We waited silently for him to finish.

Pak closed the dossier. "Your translation software needs updates," he said with a sigh, "I can only speculate, but I have a good idea of what went wrong."

I bit my lip. Normally, such classified files were off-limits for newcomers, but things had really slipped out of control in the last few hours. "Let's hear it, Otonashi."

"This paper," Otonashi held up a document, "This is a memo was written by Emil Fischer. The Emil Fischer. The creator of Luminal, the epilepsy drug. This was written to the board of IG Farben, asking for Pak to be transferred."

"Bastards," Sandra cursed. "Those Nazi bastards killed everyone in the ghetto. They gassed my parents. My siblings. Myself. All my friends. Pak… Why did you do something so terrible?" Her tone was an odd mixture of resentment and sadness. She spoke as if she expected Pak to intrude and defend himself.

"Well," Otonashi interrupted, "To his credit, he was probably trying to help people like you. Take a look." Otonashi handed Sandra the first page of the letter.

" This memo is asking Pak to be transferred. It complains about Pak being uncooperative and violent towards his coworkers. It also accuses him of sabotaging the work of rival chemists and getting into violent altercations. Fischer places the blame for the delays in the sarin gas nerve agent squarely on Pak."

I took the page from Sandra and glanced over it. "Pak could indeed by acting out of envy or arrogance," I noted, "But that's unlikely. Pak is usually pretty agreeable. It's more likely that he was just disguising his sabotage as personal grievances. He was a NKVD agent, after all."

Pak highlighted a passage on the second page of the Fischer letter. "It says here that Pak was injured by one of his own nerve agents," Otonashi said, tapping his paper, "He was working on a new nerve agent project combining substituted cathinones, tabun, and chlorobenzene when the chlorobenzene vapors ignited. Pak got some minor burns on his hands and arms, but the real problem was the substituted cathinone and tabun that spilled onto his hands."

"Please explain in Japanese, Professor Otonashi-san," Fujimaki interrupted sarcastically. "I don't know a single one of the chemicals you mentioned."

I promptly grabbed one of the binders and threw it at Fujimaki. The impact was enough to give him a nosebleed. "Not all of us are morons like you, Fujimaki. Now let him finish."

"Substituted cathionones. They're a group of compounds containing stimulants such as alpha-PVP. You might be more familiar with it as flakka or gravel. They're known for causing aggression and hallucinations. Pak might have synthesized a version with an extended half-life. It could have been activated by stress, excitement, or a combination of both. Tabun is a nerve agent that causes paranoia, restlessness, and convulsions. Remember how Pak was shaking so badly? I bet that he that tabun had become active again."

"Bad trip… Bad trip…" TK added.

Yim was dejected upon hearing the news. Her signature smile turned into a frown. "Will the old Pak come back, Otonashi-san?" She asked with watery eyes, "Please tell me that he'll be alright-kah."

"Oh, he'll be alright," Otonashi assured Yim with a pat on the head, "He'll probably be back to normal tomorrow morning. He probably won't even remember what happened." Yim, somewhat relieved, sat back down. Out of all of us, Yim seemed to be the most worried about Pak's well-being. She treated Pak as if he were her brother and even called him that on a few occasions. She did have a brother in her past life, but he died in 2006. She never told us how he died, and she avoided the topic whenever possible. But from how protective she was of Pak, I suspected that her brother died in the same way my brother did. Murdered down by heartless vermin.

"What was the Renfield syndrome you were talking about?" Hinata asked, "And why was he drinking blood?"

"Renfield syndrome. It's not formally recognized by most medical associations, but it's a syndrome in which people derive satisfaction from drinking blood. It could be just a part of Pak's hallucinations, but it could also reflect some degree of sadism or psychopathy."

There was an uncomfortable pause in the room. I couldn't help but feel some pity for Pak. He did everything he could to stop the Nazi war machine, but he never got any appreciation during his life. His youth was terrible, and his jobs were egregiously dangerous. I wasn't too surprised to hear that he might have developed some psychological issues. Still, the prospect of Pak recovering his memories was a more pressing concern.

"What does this mean for Pak's memories?" I asked, "Do you think that this incident had something to do with his memories?"

"It might have," Otonashi acknowledged, "Angel's death might have served as some sort of a trigger for some of his memories. Also, he might be getting a boost from context-dependent memory. People are more likely to remember depressing events when they're sad and frustrating events when they feel frustrated. Pak's violent outburst could cause him to remember some of the more traumatic events in his life."

That was bad news. If there was one word that described Pak's life, it would be "traumatic". The different sources on Pak's life were neither complete nor unanimous, but they all painted a very dim picture. Pak's father died not long after Pak's birth. The government relocated his family to Chongjin, where they lived in dire poverty. He was forced to witness and partake in some of the cruelest acts of inhumanity, including the Holocaust, Stalin's purges, and the Japanese occupation. His life seemed to have consisted of nothing but death, poverty, and oppression. Even by SSS standards, he lived a miserable life.

"Is there anything we can to do prevent Pak from getting his memories back?" I asked, slightly irritated by the revelations.

Otonashi shook his head. "That's going to be tough. Patients without severe brain damage usually do recover their memories after a while. I'll fully recover my memories too. It's just a matter of time."

"We have to at least stop him from acting violently," I insisted, "I can't have him randomly biting other SSS members."

This time, Otonashi nodded. "That's certainly possible. Benzodiazepines have been shown to be very effective in treating cases like this."

"And where can we get these… benzo… drugs?" I asked, "There are no hospitals or pharmacies on this island. People aren't supposed to get sick."

"That's going to be a problem," Otonashi acknowledged, "I can't just synthesize them in the chemistry lab. Pak can't do it either, since he died before these drugs were created…"

Fujimaki was the first to propose a solution. "We can't keep Pak around us anymore" he proclaimed, "Just bury him or send him off this island on a boat. He's too dangerous for us."

"That's nonsense," Yim retorted, "Pak is just sick. He'll recover soon-kah. He just saved the entire assault team yesterday, and this is how you repay him?"

Takamatsu jumped in to break up the argument. Then, he pushed up his glasses and grinned. He had a plan.

"A boat isn't a bad idea," Takatsu stated, "In fact, I think that a boat is essential our next operation."

"Do tell."

Takamatsu responded with a question. "Yim, Sandra, what exactly did you hear in that radio broadcast?"

"The broadcast was in Korean," Sandra started, "So I couldn't understand anything. But there was plenty of screaming and gunfire in the background…"

"I think I heard something about a broadcasting center. It sounded like English. I think that the message was talking about the broadcasting center in some city… Was it Busan? Or something else. I can't remember the exact name-kah, but the city's name ended in –san."

"Yes!" Takamatsu exclaimed, "I know where we can find the drug."

"Where?" I asked, still a bit lost.

Takamatsu lifted his arm and pointed north, somehow taking off his shirt in the process. "Busan."

* * *

**Jargon Dictionary**

**Flakvisier 40 reflector sights:**

Flakviser 40 reflector sights were a series of gunsights used by the German military on anti-aircraft guns. It was one of the more sophisticated sights used at the time, greatly enhancing the effectiveness of German autocannons.

**Warsaw Ghetto:**

The Warsaw Ghetto was the largest Jewish ghetto in Nazi-occupied Europe. Created after the German invasion in 1940, the ghetto held more over 400,000 Jews from around Poland. At least 254,000 residents were sent to the Treblinka extermination camp by the SS, and many others were killed by disease. The Warsaw Ghetto Uprising resulted in another 13,000 killed. It is estimated that at least 300,000 inhabitants were killed. Sandra and her family were some of the unfortunate victims.

**Emil Fischer (1877 – 1947):**

Franz Joseph Emil Fischer was a German chemist famous for his contributions to organic chemistry. He and Hans Tropsch discovered the Fischer-Tropsch process for producing hydrocarbons. This discovery literally fueled the German war effort, as it enabled Germany to convert its vast coal reserves to aviation and automobile petroleum. Fischer is also credited with discovering barbital, which is sold under the name Luminal. It was a commonly prescribed sedative until the introduction of benzodiazepines in the 1960s.

**Chemical compounds:**

Sarin is an infamous nerve agent prized for its toxicity and odorless character. It can be fatal even at very low concentrations, with death typically occurring within 10 minutes. Survivors may suffer permanent neurological damage. While the agent was discovered in 1938, the Germans lacked the capacity to produce it in large quantities. Small quantities were indeed produced, but they were never used.

Substituted cathinones are a group of compounds featuring a phenethylamine core with an alkyl group attached to the alpha carbon and a ketone group attached to the beta carbon. These compounds naturally occur in the khat plant, and modified versions are often used as recreational drugs. Some substituted cathinones, like alpha-PVP, are psychoactive drugs that cause hallucinations, aggression, and mental instability. Although Pak could have indeed synthesized a derivative that can be activated by stress, such effects are not observed with the existing drugs in real life.

Tabun was another nerve agent developed by Germany. First discovered in 1936, the compound was first used as an insecticide before scientists noted its potential as a nerve agent. Large quantities were produced by the Germans, but it was not used. Symptoms of exposure include nervousness, pupil contraction, and convulsions. Exposure by skin contact is not as toxic as inhalation, but it may cause the same symptoms. Tabun can build up in the body and stay active for long periods of time. Although tabun is not as toxic as sarin, it's significantly easier to produce. The compound's simplicity attracted the attention of Saddam Hussein, who used it against Iranian troops during the Iran-Iraq War.

Chlorobenzene is often mixed with tabun as a dispersing agent. The liquid is highly flammable and can explode if handled improperly.

Benzodiazepines are a class of psychoactive drugs consisting of a benzene ring fused to a diazepine ring. These drugs were discovered in 1955, but it was not marketed until 1963. The drug enhances the effect of the GABA neurotransmitter, resulting in sedative and anticonvulsant properties. They have proved very effective in treating anxiety, agitation, and the symptoms of certain substituted cathinones.

**Context-dependent memory:**

In psychology, context-dependent memory refers to improved recall of specific episodes or information when the context present at encoding and retrieval are the same. People are more likely to recall happy events when happy and remember sad events when sad. However, this effect extends past emotions. Divers who learn words underwater are more likely to remember the words underwater.

* * *

**Closing Scripts **

**Sandra:** Go softer on the chemistry, Dima. Not everyone here is a chemist, you know.

**Dima: **Sorry. I just thought that they added some good detail to the story. They take a lot of time to write too. My chemistry professor was just talking about how he often gets calls from authors inquiring about poisons.

**Pak:** I don't understand all this biochemistry either. I'm just too old for this stuff…

**Yuri:** I don't understand it either. But thanks for the additional screen time.

**Sandra: **My hands still hurt from all that typing. Translating is hard work.

**Yim:** My wrist still bleeds…

**Pak:** Sorry… Don't know what came over me. Was it bloodlust? I don't know. Blame Dima.

**Dima:** Sorry, Yim. But here's something that will make you a little happier.

(A figure suddenly descends from the sky. The figure turns out to be a teenage girl wearing a strange contraption on her legs. The mechanical contraption seems to have propellers that allow the girl to fly. She has a pair of cat ears on her head and a tail growing out her back. She slowly flies to an awestruck Yim and extends a Wai greeting.)

**Waan: **Hello-kah. I'm Flying Officer Wattana Sujarittum. Nice to meet you.

**Yim:** Nice to meet you too.

**Pak:** That's a really cool flying machine. How do I make one?

**Sandra:** And why aren't you wearing pants?

**Dima:** Hold off on the questions for now. Please introduce yourself, Waan.

**Waan: **Hello, readers. I'm Wattana Sujarittum, but you can just call me Waan. I'm a magical witch pilot. I'm the main character in PPSyrius's new story-_Strike Witches: Southeast Asia Theater_. Be sure to check it out.

**Dima (envious)**: That story has only been out for like two weeks. It already has more reviews and favorites than this story. What gives?

**Yim: **Awesome! That makes us sisters then. Oh, I have so many fun things planned for us. We can fly together, go shopping, and do each other's hair. This is going to be so much fun.

**Dima:** So, that's it, guys. Sorry for the late update. I've been feeling a little depressed recently due to the events in Paris and the Middle East. I didn't feel comfortable writing about bloodshed for a really long time, but I didn't want to let you guys down. Hope you guys liked this chapter. Please leave a review and/or add it to your favorites. I won't bite, unlike Pak.

**Pak:** I heard that… (Takes out P38)…


	10. Do It Again

**Chapter 9: Do It Again (Pak)**

Lunchtime was one of the rare times when I got to relax and talk with friends. The daily life of a SSS member was packed full of work, studying and drills. There was hardly ever time for us to rest. Sandra complained insistently about it, and I couldn't blame her. At times, it seemed that the only reason we were not dying of exhaustion was that we could not die.

And as it turned out, Angel could not die either. Despite taking a 37mm anti-tank round to the back, she recovered as quickly as the rest of us. Noda was keeping watch over her in some deep part of the Guild. Our original plan was to torture her to get more information about god, but it was kaput. When Angel regained her consciousness, her abilities, including her shield, also became active. She still couldn't escape the iron chains, but she deployed shield to protect herself. She also upgraded her shields somehow and made them impervious to the 37mm rounds. Angel couldn't attack us, but we couldn't do anything to her either. Our initial victory quickly led to a stalemate.

For some of us, though, a stalemate was more than welcome. The lull in Battlefront activity gave us time to catch up on our hobbies. The GirlDeMo girls performed ballads, instead of rock songs, in the school auditorium. Takamatsu devoted his time to workouts, and Hinata joined the school baseball team. Matsushita left the school altogether to train in the mountains.

For me though, the temporary peace meant even more work. Sometimes, I suspected that Yuri was trying to punish me for what happened after I killed Angel that day. I couldn't remember anything after killing Angel, but I could remember waking up the next day with blood in my mouth and vomiting blood throughout the day. Hinata told me everything the next day. It was as unexpected for me as it was for everyone else. I didn't know what caused me to snap like that. Maybe it had something to do with my past, or maybe it was the stress. I didn't know. Most of the SSS didn't seem to care either. They were too enraptured about the victory over Angel.

Yurippe was still happy with my work and designated me as the head of the new Design Division. She gave me my own personal design bureau, located deep within the Guild. I had virtually unlimited access to materials and indirect control of the Guild. The amount of work that came with the position was astronomical. Yurippe gave me the green light for the production of tanks, but she also wanted a hodgepodge of different weapons in return. She wanted a large-caliber gun to break Angel's shield, a truck to tow the said gun around, and a boat to carry the two across rivers. I couldn't for the life of me understand how a boat would be useful on a small island like Tsushima, but Yuri was rather insistent. She went as far as to set a set of strict and detailed requirements about the boat's range, speed, and capacity. The specified range of 640km (400 miles) was enough for two round-trips to the city of Nagato on Honshu. It also had to have a cruising speed of 20 knots, allowing for the aforementioned round trips to take place in just less than 24 hours. I suspected that the true purpose of the ship was to allow Yuri to visit her home on Honshu. I couldn't blame her. I was very homesick as well, but my friends on Sakhalin Island were 1,800km (1100 miles) away.

Fortunately, though, some friends were still close by. I sat down next to Otonashi. We were in the same physics class, and we often got to eat together. He turned out to be a very affable guy, and his knowledge of medicine rivaled my knowledge about planes. Like me, he also suffered from amnesia. He could not recall any of his personal life, but I suspected that he was training to be a doctor. His grades in Ms. Sakurai's biology class were superb, and his chemistry was not shabby either.

"Are you feeling better today, Pak?" Otonashi asked, "I suggest that you lay off the peppers. You don't want the endorphin rush when you're stressed."

I took Otonashi's advice and threw away the peppers. "Still a bit nauseous, but better," I replied, "I still can't remember what happened after Angel collapsed. And quite frankly, I don't want to remember either."

"I heard that Hinata has explained everything to you," Otonashi remarked, "It might have been a one-time hormonal imbalance thing. The switch from a European to an Asian diet could have had something to do with it too. Either way, I'm sure that you'll feel better soon."

"I was feeling fine until that physics exam," I replied, "I knew all of it, but I still couldn't finish. Such a mood-killer. How did you do?"

"I found it surprisingly easy," Otonashi replied, putting down his sandwich, "I didn't write down any of the correct answers though."

"Don't be too paranoid about the whole academic performance thing," I said, "Just make sure to fail at least one class, and you'll be fine. It's perfectly fine to do well in a few classes." That was what I reasoned from experience, anyhow. My grades in Japanese class were terrible, but I had the highest grade in the whole school in English, math, physics and chemistry. The chemistry teacher, Dr. Fuse, was so impressed that he offered me a position as a lab assistant. That made it way easier for me to access the chemicals, and the extra pay wasn't bad either.

"Well, it's less work for me anyway," Otonashi replied in between bites of the sandwich, "And speaking of work, thanks for saving me during Operation Twister two days ago. I really owe you one."

"That took a lot of luck and practice," I smiled, "It's Operation Tornado, and we all have to start somewhere. You actually did very well, given that you've never fired a gun before."

"Yuri ought to give you one-ton gold medals," Otonashi said, "You guys came just in time too. Angel had us cornered. If you had come just a minute later, we probably wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"It's not all smiles and rainbows," I replied, "I, for one, am a bit concerned. The whole purpose of the SSS was to create a situation in which god has to show up. We killed Angel, but god still did not show up…"

Otonashi did not seem to understand what I was saying. "Maybe it wasn't enough," Otonashi said, "We still have her locked up. Maybe we have to kill her repeatedly or send her off this island. God might intervene then."

"That _might _be true," I retorted, "But what if he does not? What if he doesn't exist? What if he just does not care? Would there still be a point to the Battlefront?"

My voice was not that loud, but it felt as if I had dropped a bomb in the middle of the cafeteria. All the SSS members within hearing range stopped eating and turned to look at me. Some of them looked annoyed or angry, and some looked equally confused. There was a long pause. Even the NPCs were looking in my direction.

What I said was on everyone's mind at some point, but no one connected it to the recent events. Yuri said that the purpose of the SSS was to search for god and then seek vengeance. Killing Angel was the way in which we could find god. We killed Angel temporarily, but god did not intervene. We created the perfect opportunity for god to intervene, but he simply didn't.

I did believe in a god. I understood that there was Supreme Being. The idea was as appealing as it was logical. There is a certain beauty and order to the universe that only a divine figure could have ordained. As Robespierre said, atheism is aristocratic; the idea of a great being that watches over oppressed innocence and triumphantly punishes crime is altogether popular. Christianity and Buddhism were even more popular than deism, but I didn't believe in either. I had been up in the sky, and I had seen an Angel. Both were hell.

"Don't get so cocky, punk," Fujimaki hollered at me form another table, "Just because you were the hero a few days ago doesn't mean that you get to insult the Battlefront."

"Why would god create a universe in which he can't intervene? That's like writing the lyrics to a song that can't be performed," Iwasawa critiqued.

"You've seen all the crazy things that happen here, Pak," Hisako continued, "You can't die. The buildings automatically repair themselves, and we can make steel from dirt. If that isn't enough evidence for divinity, I don't know what is."

I did not anticipate such a strong reaction. "Sorry, folks," I apologized, "You're right. Ignore what I just said. I inhaled too much acetone at the lab this morning. I'm still feeling a bit light-headed. That's all."

The other SSS members seemed satisfied with the half-hearted apology and went back to chatting. I chugged down my bowl of soup to calm myself. I had plenty of food and information to digest. The other members did make some valid points. For there to be some form of afterlife, there had to be some divine figure. Whether or not this divine being cared about what we were doing, however, was another story.

"Religion is still a sensitive topic," Otonashi advised, "But I suppose that Yuri's methodology for contacting god could be flawed. Hasn't Yuri ever tried just talking to Angel and asking?"

I shrugged, "She says she has, but Angel isn't exactly the most talkative or cooperative. It makes me wonder how she became the study body president in the first place. She probably goes around stabbing people until they agree to vote for her." I let out a sigh. "Violence… It's the only law that this damn world recognizes. Even in student politics."

"That's a little cynical, Pak," Otonashi pointed out. He looked and sounded like a British aristocrat, sipping green tea calmly out of a porcelain tea cup. "There is genuine kindness in this world. You must have… but then again, you lived through the worst chapter of humanity. Kudos to you for enduring, but times have changed."

"It never changes," I muttered, "Some people think that they are immune against all evil. They think that people become evil because their mothers didn't love them enough or because their brains were wired differently. Those are lies that people tell themselves because they can't handle the truth. The truth is, Otonashi, that evil is within all of us. People don't change that easily, so war never changes either. It never does. Not even in the afterlife."

Otonashi seemed a little disheartened by the statement and didn't reply. He was a smart guy, no doubt, but not everyone knew how the world really worked.

"Attention, Battlefront!" Yuri's voice boomed over the school broadcasting system, "Attention, all Battlefront members. Angel has escaped. Repeat. Angel has escaped!"

"Well… Scheisse," I cursed, slamming my fist onto the table, "All that hard work. Right down the drain. Which incompetent buffoons were watching her, anyway? Complete morons."

"All Battlefront members, please report to the Principal's office immediately. Be advised that Angel may on the school grounds. Use extreme caution!" The Battlefront members got up and prepared their weapons. I took out my P38 pistol, and Otonashi took out his Glock 17. As I ran through the school, I heard many loud booms and vibrations from underneath the school. That meant one thing: Angel was fighting down in the Guild. Yim and Sandra were both down there. From the sounds of it, they were fighting back with everything they could.

"What's going on, Yurippe?" Hinata asked as he rushed into the room, "How did Angel escape?"

"Wasn't Noda supposed to be watching over her?" Takamatsu asked, "I guess that means that he messed up again."

"This is just so stupid," Shiina commented.

Yuri sat with her arms crossed on the table. When the room filled up, she began to explain, "Angel has escaped using a new guard skill. We don't know that it's called yet, but it's powerful. The folks in the Guild reported hearing a loud mechanical scream, and Angel broke free immediately afterwards. They're doing their best to fight back against her, but they're losing ground."

"Is there any way that we can trap Angel underground?" Hinata asked, "If we can evacuate everyone and trap her underground, we still win."

"That's exactly what we're trying to do," Yuri answered, "We'll have to abandon the Guild, but we'll be able to save everyone. In order for us to do that, though, we're going to have to send someone down there to fight her."

"It won't be easy," Takamatsu commented, "Evacuating the wounded will take time. We'll probably need to knock her out again, or at least trap her somehow."

"And that means one thing…" Yuri was slow to finish, but I saw it coming a mile away. Eyes were already focusing on me. "Pak, we need you to do it again!"

* * *

**Jargon Dictionary**

Nagato:

Nagato is a city located in Yamaguchi Prefecture, Japan. The city has an estimated population of 38,000 and is renowned for its picturesque beaches, diving sites, and hot springs.

Maximillian Robespierre:

Maximilien François Marie Isidore de Robespierre (1758-1794) was a politician who played a key role in the French Revolution. He was a vocal reformer calling for change in the French monarchy. Nicknamed "the incorruptible" for his steadfast adherence to his moral values and deism, he gained a reputation for defending the poorest members of society. He was one of the authors of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen, the foundation of the modern French constitution. However, faced with both internal and external threats, he quickly grew paranoid and tyrannical. As a member of the Committee of Public Safety, he arrested and executed many innocents suspected of harboring counterrevolutionary ideas. He was overthrown in a coup and executed in July, 1794. He remains a controversial figure at best and served as an inspiration for Pak.

* * *

**Closing: **

**Dima:** Hey guys. Sorry for the long wait and the short chapter. I know that this chapter is a bit of a filler, but I promise that there will be a lot of action in the next chapter. I originally intended this to be a part of a longer chapter but had to divide it into two parts. As an apology, you guys now get the opportunity to roast me.

**Pak: **You mean as in over an open fire? That'd be great. Dibs on impaling you.

**Dima: **Oh right. You don't know the Internet. Make fun of me and send hate comments. Here's your chance to get ruthless.

**Pak:** Your hair is so flaky that Santa used your dandruff as now during Christmas.

**Yuri:** You don't need a special section for that. Every chapter you publish is a roast.

**Sandra: **Why would we send hate comments when you already hate yourself enough?

**Hinata: **I'm bi, and I find you offensive. Not really, hehe.

**Yim: **The only girls you'll ever get is from a body pillow, but even she won't get near you.

**Takamatsu:** I'd love to roast you, but I'm afraid I won't do as well as nature did.

**Noda:** Your face makes onions cry.

**Iwasawa: **You're the type of guy who would call his character Kirito on a MMORPG.

**Yui: **Stop trying to get rid of the flies around you. They are attracted to dung.

**Waan: **Oriemo is more original than you.

**Clara R. Caldwell (loud Australian voice): **I've noticed that you've been playing a lot of dating sims lately. I'm sorry that you have to compensate for something you'll never have.

**Everyone else: **Who the hell are you?

**Clara:** Oh right. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Squadron Leader Clara Caldwell of the 514th Tropic Witches. I'm this little mug's CO. (Gives Waan a noogie).

**Dima: **How'd you know about my games… Oh wait. Right. You live on the Internet. You get to see all my Internet traffic.

**Waan: **Yep. And PPSyrius sent us all the way from Malaysia to come here to roast you.

**Dima: **Well, then. Tell him that he made you a Siamese cat witch because that's the only pussy he'll ever get.

**Hinata: **Damn. What a burn.

**Pak:** Mist. That's brutal, dude.

**Clara: **Egad. Ha. I want to see the look on PPSyrius's face when he hears about this. Take off now, Waan. We'll have to go back to Back-of-Bourke pronto.

**Dima: **Take some aloe vera with you!

**Waan: **Affirmative. Taking off.

**Clara: **Hooroo! (Flies off with Waan.)

**Dima: **So, guys. There you have it. Hope you enjoyed this new chapter. I'm going to be very busy preparing for the MCATs this semester, so updates are going to be very slow. However, I'll do my best to update you on my progress. You guys can also try to start a slice-of-life RP on the forum or play through the new Angel Beats! Visual Novel.

**TK: **Sorry 'bout being late to the party, boys! Get chance and luck!


	11. A Clockwork Monstrosity

**Chapter 10: Clockwork Monstrosity (Pak)**

When Yuri wanted something done, she had it her way. I never liked being down in the Guild, and I hated my chances against Angel even more. That was saying a lot. If I were lucky, there would still be some operational artillery pieces left. If I weren't lucky—and I usually wasn't—then things looked grim indeed.

The last time I defeated Angel, I had a Pak 36 anti-tank gun and the entire Battlefront supporting me. This time, I had only my ordinance weapons. The conditions inside the Guild weren't great for combat either. The dim lighting and twisting hallways made it hard to aim firearms. Close-quarters melee combat was the norm, and Angel was exceedingly good at it. Her "blade tornado" could destroy squads within mere seconds.

The door to the Tunnels shut behind me. I loaded my weapons onto the sidecar of the Guild motorcycle and started the engine. It was one of my newest creations—a BMW R75 motorcycle and sidecar combination. It was powerful enough to haul equipment but compact enough to fit inside the Tunnels. It was also very fast and easy to ride. I put on my helmet and sped down the Tunnels leading to the Guild.

Angel was running wild there. The entire Guild was on fire. Bright orange flames enveloped the machines. The stamping machine I designed was in pieces, and my squaring sheer was spewing out thick, black smoke. Through the smoke, I could see a few figures fighting back against Angel. Only a few. Most were lying motionless on the ground, some in pools of blood. Gunfire and screams echoed through the cavern.

Then, a canon fired. It was one of the Pak 36 guns. Angel deflected the shot. The round crashing into an overturned front-end loader and exploded, sending burning pieces of metal into the air. Another canon fired from the opposite direction. Angel somersaulted and sent the round crashing into the dirt. She wasn't going to fall for the same trick twice.

I ran down the closest staircase leading down to the ground floor, trying to find the survivors. Angel hadn't noticed me yet, and I made sure to keep my distance.

"Pak! Perfect timing!" Chaa called out, waving at me. He was couching behind a large gear press, taking shots at Angel with a modern assault rifle I couldn't quite identify. "Did you bring more backup?"

"Backup won't be coming anytime soon." I replied as I set up my Pzb 39 bipod on a nearby table, "I told you that we should have made more motorcycles."

"Well then, Professor Genius-sama," Chaa replied sarcastically, "What's your brilliant plan?"

"How many people do we have left?"

"Fourteen, including us two. Everyone else has either been killed by Angel or exploding machinery. Sandra and Yim both bought it when that giant stamping machine of yours exploded." Chaa peeked out from behind the press and fired a brief burst from his rifle. The shells just bounced harmlessly off of Angel's shield.

"I was planning on doing the cannon-in-the-back trick I used last time," I replied, "But it appears that you've already tried that."

"Angel's is smart. She learns from experience, just like we do." Chaa fired another short burst from his assault rifle and then crouched to reload. "Except that our side is full of morons," he added as an afterthought.

Peering down the scope of my rifle, I put Angel in the middle of the crosshairs and squeezed the trigger. The rifle boomed and kicked into my shoulder. Angel deflected the speeding shot with one of her wrist blades. She turned to look at me with the same expressionless eyes. Through the scope, I could see that her lips were moving. She was trying to say something to me, but her voice was drowned out by the gunfire. Another round from a Pak 36 flew in. It was a miss. The explosive shell hit the ground in front of Angel and exploded, spewing dust and metal fragments into the air.

When the dust cleared away, I saw Angel with her arms raised over her head, as if she were surrendering. But her blades were crossed in an ominous x. Her lips moved again, more slowly this time. She was speaking in English. I could distinctly make out the word "howling". The air around her began to ripple. The machines around her began to buckle and crack. A half-ton drill press was lifted was its foundations and slid across the floor in a trail of sparks. The ground itself started vibrating. I instinctively ducked behind the table and covered my ears.

I didn't know anything about Angle's special skill, but the resemblance between the ripples and blast waves was enough to convince me to take cover. I had been bombed so many times that "duck and cover" became second nature. Unfortunately, though, not everyone had the same instincts. Too many, including, Chaa, could only stare in awe.

Less than a second later, the wave of sound struck. It was unlike anything I had ever heard. It was only one pitch, but it sounded neither mechanical nor human. It was like the scream of a demon. The scope on my rifle sight shattered, and the light bulbs on the ceiling blew out. Chaa was knocked back into the side of a foraging press. Dirt, glass and burning debris fell around on us. Chaa was bleeding from the back of his head and ears—that was when I noticed that my ears were bleeding, too, and that I could no longer hear anything. I knew—from Chaa's face—that he was screaming at me and that he was trying to tell me to _do _something.

What did he want me to do? I wondered, listening to the pain in my ears. Chaa looked like he was about to lose consciousness. My ears finally cleared; there was a popping or a ripping sound, as if my ears were late in echoing the explosion.

"Stop her! You're our last... hope…" Chaa screamed. His speech became slurred, and his body went limp. I tried to shake him, but it only worsened the bleeding. He was still breathing, but I feared that he wasn't going get up any time soon.

It was only then that I noticed that the Guild had gone quiet. All the guns had fallen silent. I really was the only one left. The only sounds were the crackling of the fires and Angel's approaching footsteps. She wasn't far off anymore. I took out my MP40 and aimed it at her. I put my finger on the trigger but stopped short of firing. A nearby crane buckled under the flames and collapsed with a metallic thud. The lattice boom fell between us, blocking Angle's path with searing hot metal.

"What was that, Angel?" I shouted at her, "What did you do?"

"That was my newest guard skill—Howling. It produces a sound wave programmed to incapacitate everyone in a 100-meter radius. I'm impressed that you're unhurt," She commented in her usual monotone voice. I guess that she didn't notice the blood oozing out of my ears. She extended her wrist blades but could not get any closer.

"Why?" I gritted through my teeth, "What are you planning to do to everyone?"

"To make them pass on," She replied, "To allow them to move on from the misery they faced in their past life." Her vacant looks made me wonder if she even understood the concept of misery, much less the concept of empathy.

"You're trying to obliterate them. What makes you think that you have the right to do such a thing, you clockwork monstrosity?"

"I'm the Student Body President," She replied, "I'm just another human, like you."

"Liar! You're nothing but an android. A mishmash of circuits and servos. Don't you even dare to mention us in the same breath. I am a human. I still have that one trait that puts me in ascendance even above the gods."

"What would that be?"

"It is my will that drives me. Machines obey the commands of others. Without the dreams of others to keep you going, you would shamble to a halt. So long as I am propelled forward by my own, unadulterated will, I am heir to something you can only steal. Within me rests a human soul and a human's will, precious beyond all worth. Machines can be broken, Fräulein President, but the will triumphs. It has always triumphed, and it will always triumph."

"That's an interesting speech," She replied, "But I'm not a machine. You've killed me once. You've seen my blood."

"Funny enough," I said, "I don't remember anything that happened after I fired that shot. Why don't you go cut your arm off with that buzz saw over there? That'll remind me."

As I expected, Angel didn't laugh. "Why do you continue to resist?"

"Because my will drives me to. I want to create world in which people like you don't exist. A world where people can live as equals. Power originally came from the people, but tyrants, no, machines like you took stole it. Your existence is the crime. You must die so that people may live." The passage was a combination of Louis de Saint-Just and Maximillian Robespierre. Their speeches once brew thunderous applause from crowds of thousands, but my audience was silent. Even though Angel didn't reply, I could see that she had no intensions of backing down. I had no interest in keeping up the charade either. I had bought myself enough time to think of a plan.

I bowed sarcastically. "Applaud, mein President-sama, the comedy is finished." I adjusted my aim and pressed the trigger. The Schmeisser, as the Allied soldiers called it, spew forth a stream of bullets in Angel's direction. They bounced harmlessly off of Angel's shield. I followed up with another brief burst. The bullets bounced again. Her shield was just too tough.

I took out a smoke grenade from my belt, pulled the pin, and threw it at Angel. Her shield did a great job of protecting her, but it also made her slow. The grenade exploded and spew out a thick layer of white smoke. It was perfect for my getaway.

I took off towards my design bureau, taking occasional a few potshots at Angel in the process. When I saw that she was following me, I dropped another smoke grenade. The gunfire gave her a rough idea of where I was, but the smoke slowed her down.

My design bureau was located in what used to be a cavern shaft dug for supplying dirt. It was roughly the size of Mittelwerk, and its size and isolation made it ideal for testing new weapons. The entrance was guarded by a large bolted door even thicker than Guild main entrance door. I designed it after a bank vault. It was built to guard against fire and explosions and did its job more than once. Whether it was going to hold against Angel was less certain, but it didn't need to. I just needed to buy myself a little bit more time.

The vault door slammed shut behind me with a loud clang. Angel banged furiously on the thick metal. One of her blades pierced the door, producing a shower of sparks. Rather than breaking the lock, she was trying to cut a hole in the door itself. For someone her size, the latter was a much quicker option.

I quickly made my way to my chemistry laboratory within the design bureau. That lab was stocked with equipment "liberated" from Dr. Fuse's lab. I could make most of what I needed from dirt, but stealing was much easier. Also, dirt could not be used to create compounds that exist as gasses at standard temperature and pressure. I had to get my oxygen, acetylene, nitrogen, and noble gases from tanks in the school lab. None of them, though, had much to do with the plan I had in mind.

Stacked among the tanks were a hodgepodge of barrels, buckets, and jars containing an assortment of different chemicals. One stack of buckets—store in a corner of the door, behind a plastic partition—were bright pink and labelled with GirlDeMo stickers. Yui had begged me to make some fireworks for the GirlDeMo performances. I thought that it was a waste of time, but her puppy eyes had a hypnotic power. Yuri approved as well, since the fireworks could also be used as flares and diversions. I developed all the necessary chemicals but never had enough time to put them into the finished product. It didn't matter anymore, though. They had more than one use.

The increasing volume of the bangs on the main door told me that time was running out. I grabbed a few of pink buckets and bottles and hastily stacked them by the laboratory door. I didn't bother closing it; if Angel could break through the main doors, she would have no problem breaking through the chemistry lab door. Then, I took out a small glass vial of a white crystals and gently placed it on the ground near the door. The vial was no bigger than a small vacuum tube, but it contained the what was easily most dangerous chemical in the Guild. I covered up the vial by with a pile of magnesium sulfate.

Angel broke through the main vault door as I was emptying the magnesium sulfate bucket. We stared at each other for about a second. Then, she dashed towards me with the speed of a strafing de Havilland Mosquito. I took out my pistol and fired two shots at her. She deflected both shots with her blades.

I leaped back into my chemistry lab, careful to jump over the glass vial. I nearly slipped on the magnesium sulfate but managed to regain my balance at the last second. I had to parkour over three lab benches and took cover behind a metal desk in the far corner of the room. I readied my Schmeisser and aimed it at the door.

As I predicted, Angel followed suit. I fired a short burst at her, but her shields were deployed. The bullets ricocheted. One of them hit the light switch and broke the circuit, plunging the room into complete darkness.

"Come get me!" I taunted Angel, loading a new clip into my MP 40, "Get me, and you win." My voice was trembling from both fear and exhaustion. Angel didn't reply, but I could hear her approaching footsteps. I plugged my bleeding ears, closed my eyes, and dropped to the floor.

The room exploded a second later. The boom was so powerful that it knocked over all the chemical vials in the room, and the light was so bright that I was able to feel it in my blind eye, through the eyepatch. Shards of glass and an assortment of liquids rained down from the shelves. An acrid, burning stench filled the silent room.

I slowly got up and looked across the lab bench. Sure enough, Angel was no longer standing there. The explosion had destroyed a large section of the wall and most of the lights in the hallway. A few small chemical fires were the only illumination for the pile of rubble that covered Angel's body. The first part of my plan had worked wondrously.

I grinned as I slowly found my way across what was left of the room. The glass vial contained only 10g of silver fulminate. Usually, it would not have been enough to cause so much damage, but Angel's shield trapped most of the blast waves. The blasts, when enclosed, would have been able to ignite the GirlDeMo pyrotechnics in the pink barrels. Most of the chemicals were not very explosive, but they gave off bright flashes of light when burned. They were meant to blind Angel, in case the explosion alone was not enough to bring her down.

The combination turned out to be overkill. The falling debris was more than enough to knock out Angel. Only her head was not covered by debris, and she wasn't moving. Her body was in the center of a perfectly round crater in the ground, which marked the extent of her shields. Her shields might have saved her from our bullets, but it also made her vulnerable to internal explosions. Her strongest defense also proved to be her downfall.

I tried to lift the concrete slab covering Angel, and it didn't budge. The debris was more than enough to keep her trapped for a while, but I didn't want to take any chances. I went back to the explosives closet and rolled out three 55-gallon steel drums. One contained gunpowder. The others contained sodium hypochlorite and liquid ammonia. When the two liquids are mixed, they generate toxic and explosive hydrazine gas. The chemical fires could serve as the ignition. I removed the caps of both barrels, kicked them over, and dashed out of the design bureau.

The resulting explosion behind me almost knocked me over. The vault door was blown off its hinges and rolled like a loose coin. A section of the Guild roof collapsed, blocking what used to be the entrance of my design lab with a pile of rocks and mud. I suspected that my design bureau had caved in as well. It was a shame that all those prototypes had to go to waste, but at least the Guild members were safe. Angel would be trapped for at least a day, even with her new Howling ability. That gave us plenty of time to demolish the Guild and seal the entrances. Trapping Angel in an underground hell felt strangely like poetic justice.

With Angel now trapped, I devoted myself to fighting the fires in the Guild. They were not nearly as dangerous, but they still produced toxic fumes that poisoned the air. Ventilation was near nonexistent, and I had to act quick.

After a while, the injured and unconscious Guild members around me started to recover and helped control the fires. Otonashi, Yuri, and a small group of assault team members eventually arrived to help the survivors. Otonashi administered first aid to those who were recovering, while others carried the unconscious out of the Guild on makeshift stretchers. Noda was shaken and mumbling incoherently when we lifted him out of the secret underground prison, but he was still alright. The rest of the Guild members prepared the demolition charges and tried to save whatever was still salvageable. Most of my blueprints were already buried underneath the rubble, but my photographic memory nullified most of that. I was still able to recover some prototype firearms and radio equipment.

One by one, the SSS members filed out of the Guild and ascended to the surface, carrying carts loaded with salvaged equipment. I was among the few who stayed behind to help Chaa set up the demolition charges.

"We're almost done," Chaa said to me, "Just this last connection, and that'll be it."

I threaded together the copper wires leading from the detonator and explosives. The explosives weren't very different form the ones I handled back in World War II. The same chemicals and setup still provided a lot of bang for the buck.

"That's it," I said, dusting off the dirt from my gloves, "That's the last of them. We'll have to evacuate now."

The remaining seven or so members of the SSS filed out of the cavern and into the Tunnels. I was the last one to leave. Before closing the massive doors, I turned around to bid my last farewell. I easily grew attached to places—even places that I didn't like. The enormity of the cavern still impressed me, and the combination of broken machinery and collapsed rock had a strange beauty to it. It was a shame that the place had to be destroyed.

Sandra placed her hand on my shoulder. "Let's go, Pak," She said, pulling me away from the door, "You'll have plenty of time to reminisce later. There's still work to do."

Yim nodded in agreement, "Cheer up, Pak-kah. It's not that bad. We'll build you a new design studio. Now that Angel is gone, it doesn't even have to be underground anymore. We can even build it at the beach or on a mountaintop with a beautiful sunset view, like Khao Luang mountain-kah."

"We might not even have to build anything at all," Takamatsu chimed in, pushing up his glasses, "After we blow this place, Angel will be buried 300 meters underground. Even with her skills, I doubt that she will be able to climb out."

I closed the giant doors and walked further into the Tunnels, contemplating the future fight against Angel. Three hundred meters of soil would certainly trap Angel for a very long time, but I doubted that it would stop her forever. We still needed to experiment with more powerful guns and flamethrowers, in case she reemerged. Armored vehicles and chemical weapons would be very good projects as well. Building a boat could allow us to escape the island altogether also seemed like a good backup plan.

After the conversation with Otonashi that morning, I was no longer sure that Yurippe's strategy of killing Angel would invoke divine intervention and presence. Whichever divinity that created and ruled the world didn't bother to intervene when the Nazis murdered down 12 million innocents, and I doubted that he would appear just to save an android like Angel. Still, there was no reason to give up. Most of us had long-standing grudges against her, and we had to protect ourselves against obliteration. Defeating Angel gave me quite a thrill, and at times, she seemed to be the only thing holding the Battlefront together.

After walking a good distance away from the Guild, Chaa placed the blasting machine on the ground and removed the safety. "Alright," he said, "We're going to blow the Guild. Cover your ears."

"Fire in the hole!" I plugged my ears and watched as he pressed down the handle. I expected a series of loud booms and vibrations. I waited and waited, but nothing happened. Yim and Hinata gave me curious looks, while Fujimaki and Sandra shot me impatient and angry glances.

"It didn't work," Fujimaki said, as if he had solved the problem with his penetrating insight.

"Yes, we know that, moron," Sandra shot back.

"The wire must have snagged somewhere," Chaa complained, letting out a slight sigh, "You guys stay here. I'll go have a look." Chaa ran off in the direction of the Guild. I wanted to help him, but I was too tired. I took a seat on the ground and started organizing the blueprints we managed to salvage.

Yim scanned the blueprints I laid out on the dirt. The blueprints of contra-rotating propellers for the Daimler-Benz DB 605 engine seemed to fascinate her the most. It was purely an experimental project; I wanted so see if the availability of light and strong materials could offset the weight and mechanical complicity of epicyclic gear trains. The gears allowed two propellers to be turned by one engine. Willy Messerschmitt was never approved of such designs; his philosophy was to increase performance by decreasing drag and weight. I thought that it was a worthwhile pursuit. A Messerschmitt Bf 109 was seven times heavier than the WWI-era Fokker Dreideckers the Red Baron flew, but it was also three times faster. The output of the engine had a lot to do with it, but ultimately, the propellers drove the plane.

"It's a design that I wanted to test out," I said, pointing at the gears, "Come to think of it. You were in flight school. Have you flown any planes with contra-rotating props?"

"No. I've seen them though. Some Russian bombers and racing planes use them, but commercial planes don't use them at often. It's a cool design though. No need to worry about the P-factor during take-offs." The P-factor referred to a propeller-driven plane's tendency to yaw at high angels of attack. The effect is particularly dangerous during takeoff, as it could cause the pilot to lose control at low altitude. Yim was a good pilot who took note of such things; the same couldn't be said for many of the novice Luftwaffe pilots. At least 10% of all Bf 109s destroyed in the war were lost in takeoff and landing accidents. Good pilots could have avoided most of those mistakes, but careful design and a slight redesign of the landing gear could have eliminated them altogether.

It was a solemn reminder of how seemingly minor engineering mistakes could lead to great losses of life. Like Stalin said, there are no trivialities in aviation. All components had to be carefully inspected and tested before use. I slid the blueprint into a folder containing engine designs.

Yim searched the pile of papers to find another blueprint booklet. My explosives booklet. The blueprint outlined a series of explosives designed to look inconspicuous. One of the bombs were placed inside a teddy bear disguised as a Valentine's Day gift, and another was placed inside a backpack. A larger one was designed to be concealed in a printer, while the largest one was concealed in a moped. They were all rigged to detonate when exposed to a certain radio signal. I designed them with the intention of catching Angel off-guard with explosions during class hours. I even had a school map showing the places where the bombs would be set to go off.

Yim had curled up into a ball at that this point, and her tiny body collapsed in on itself for support. But all of a sudden, she unfurled herself and glared at me. I couldn't tell if she was mad, or happy, or what. Her eyes were either like daggers or saucers; I couldn't really make out which. Maybe she was expecting something better. Maybe she thought I'd be less sneaky. Or did she figure out what I was planning all along?

Either way, tears began to explode from her eyes so quickly that red bags were forming under them almost instantly. She then turned her back to me, all with one seemingly unconscious spin of her body. The contents of the folder scattered onto the ground.

"Yim. Are you okay?"

"Um. Pak, remember that day when we defeated Angel? Remember how I said you were like a brother to me?" She seemed like she was trying her hardest not to let herself cry, though it wasn't exactly working.

"You did?" My communication skills and memory weren't exactly working either.

She paused, seemingly waiting for me to answer. But I had no idea what to say, and absolutely didn't want to say the wrong thing. So I just stood there like a statue.

"Never mind, then! If you don't remember, that's fine." Finally, she turned back to face m, her tears mostly dry. Still a little self-conscious about crying, thought, she kept her eyes closed, a tell-tale frown belying her confidence.

There was obviously something between the lines for me to read, but I didn't know what it was. Did she have a brother as well? If so, she didn't talk about him much. I didn't want to ask either. Not many of us had pleasant stories to tell.

Then, I realized that I was crying too. My eyes were tearing up, and my nostrils filled up with liquid. I was sweating way more than usual, and my chest felt strangely hollow. The Tunnels seemed to be getting darker. I also grew more nauseated and felt like I was on the verge of vomiting. I thought that I was just tired and depressed over the loss of the Guild. Perhaps I had accidentally inhaled some toxins during the explosion in my lab. I wrote off the symptoms as a minor nuisance.

I started to realize something was seriously wrong, however, when Takamatsu projectile vomited onto Noda, who promptly lost control of his bowels and bladder. He fell over onto the ground into a poll of vomit and urine, twitching and jerking uncontrollably. Yim was drooling and tearing, while Sandra struggled to breath. Streams of urine were also flowing down their legs as well. I felt dizzy and short of breath. The symptoms were unmistakable. I knew what was happening.

We were under chemical attack!

When I worked at IG Farben, I once tried to create a new nerve gas by combining tabun chlorobenzene and some organic hallucinogens. I was distracted by a faulty light bulb and accidentally ignited the mixture, which promptly exploded. The fume hood protected most of my body, but it did nothing for my arms and hands. The explosion covered my hands in glass shards, blood and burns. The worst part, though, was that some of the talun escaped. The cuts and burns healed in about a week, but I was out of the lab for three weeks due to continuous nausea, miosis, spasms, and hallucinations. It was an experience that I only wished Angel to suffer.

_Has Angel decided to use chemical weapons on us?_ I thought to myself. _Where is the gas coming from?_

As if to answer my questions, a series of rapid gunshots suddenly rung out from the direction of the Guild. I jumped to my feet and sprinted down towards the Guild entrance. Yim tried to follow but fell down in a convulsive fit. Maybe it was because I developed a tolerance working around nerve agents, but my symptoms were more mild. My left arm and neck were twitching, but I still managed to draw out my P38 pistol. Holding it steady was a lot harder. I could barely switch off the safety.

As I ran through the gates of the Guild, I saw the culprit. There was a large open beaker of clear liquid sitting right at the edge of the walkway. Someone had plugged a fan next to it, directing the vapors into the Tunnels, instead of the main cave. I held my breath, covered my nose, and kicked the beaker off the walkway. It shattered with a satisfying clang. There were probably more beakers hidden elsewhere in the Guild and Tunnels, but carefully searching for all of them was out of the picture.

I sprinted down the staircase leading to the main floor of the Guild, leaping three or four stairs at a time. I barely avoided faceplanting into dirt. A section of wire connecting the detonating machine to the explosive charges was cut. Whoever released the sarin gas had also sabotaged our demolition efforts, probably in order to make us remain in the Tunnels long enough for the sarin gas to take effect. It was a clever move. My opponent knew what he was doing.

Thus, I wasn't completely surprised—but still shocked—when a sword pierced my body.

I was hiding behind a metal cabinet, trying to spot the new enemy. I expected a gunfight and was loading a new clip into my pistol. I was caught completely off-guard when a figure leapt over the smoking remains of the turret press, charging at me like a mad bull. His face was covered by a gas mask, and he was dressed in a blood-drenched lab coat. He held a glistening gunto sword in one hand.

There was little time for me to react. I jammed the clip into the pistol, but my sweating, shaky finger slipped on the hammer. By the time I cocked the gun, the attacker was already pressed against the barrel.

"Tenno Heika Banzai!" The masked man shouted as his sword connected.

I heard a scream as the sword plunged into my stomach. I recognized it as my own a second later. The sword found no resistance. It entered just below my ribcage and exited through my back with a sickening wet sound.

For a very brief moment, I felt nothing except a strange metallic coldness. But then, the convulsions started. First in my abdomen and slowly spreading up to the rest of my body. The extent of the agony I felt at that moment was impossible to convey. It was all-encompassing. I could hardly focus on anything else.

I collapsed on my knees and looked down. My lower body was spewing bright red blood, thick black blood, and an unknown yellow substance, all of which were blending together into a slurry that was once my life essence.

The masked man yanked the sword to the center and withdrew it. The spray of blood gushing out of me became exponentially more violent. It seemed like an equal amount of blood was rushing to my head, and it felt like the blood vessels in my head were on the verge of bursting.

I tried to cover the wound with my jacket, but the bleeding grew worse. I felt my strength quickly draining out of me. My pistol was no longer in my hand, and my life was no longer in my hands. In one last act of defiance, I reached for the utility knife in my jacket and flung it at the masked figure with every last bit of strength left in me.

It was too little, too late. The masked man dodged and swung his sword again, spraying blood and bits of viscera onto my face. My detached hand landed next to me a moment later. Blood gushed out of what remained of my arm. The smell of iron filled my nostrils, and my vision began to blur.

With amazing strength, the masked man grabbed me by the collar and pressed me against the metal cabinet. I had one last look at him before I blacked out. The man wore a lab coat over an Imperial Japanese Army dress uniform. The rank badges indicated that he was a Shousa (Major). He carried a gunto sword in one hand and had a Type 14 Nambu holstered on his belt. I recognized the gas mask as a Japanese Model 95. Through the foggy lenses, I could see a pair of brown, dead eyes glaring at me. They looked so strange, and yet so familiar.

"So we meet again, Dr. Pak?" the voice had a familiar metallic ring to it, "The last time I saw you was sixty years ago. You haven't changed a bit."

Yes. I had definitely heard that voice somewhere! And those eyes! Those were the eyes of someone who I once knew. Who? It was hard to tell without seeing the rest of his face. I had met this guy during my childhood years in East Asia. But where exactly? The pain made it too hard to think.

"Who… who are you?" I could barely utter the necessary words.

"Don't you salute your superior officers anymore, Jun-I (Warrant Officer)? Or did the Russians fill your head with too much nonsense? It's such a shame, really. I really enjoyed working with you, _maruta_ (log)."

"What… what do you want from me?" I could feel another pool of blood welling up in the back of my throat.

"You're going to die before I can fully explain, Jun-I, but let's just say that you and the SSS are getting in the way of my experiments. You have your experiments, and I have mine. I'm sure you, as a fellow scientist, can understand."

The bleeding was getting more and more severe by the second. Soon, I was practically wading in a pool of my own blood. My vision darkened from the loss of blood and the and intense pain.

"So here. Please accept this as a gift for the reunion. It has certainly been nice to meet you again, Dr. Ralf Jin Pak. Or should I say, Dr. Park Shin-kun." He tossed something in front of me just as I was moments from my final blackout. There, among my own entrails on the ground was a small wooden box.

I didn't even have enough time to read the writing on the box. I fell forward, unable to maintain balance any longer. I landed right on it. With a loud, warm and unpleasant splash, my face planted firmly into the box, which was steaming under the odd temperature differentials of my viscera...

* * *

**Jargon Dictionary**

**BMW R75:**

The BMW R75 was a World War II-era motorcycle and sidecar combination produced by BMW. The vehicle was developed for the Wehrmacht and saw heavy use in Eastern Europe and North Africa. Equipped with a 745 cc flat-twin engine and locking differentials, it was very maneuverable and capable of operating in difficult terrain. Many are still being used by motorcycle enthusiasts today. The small size and agility of the bike makes it perfect for the confined environments inside the Guild.

**Louis de Saint-Just:**

Louis Antoine Léon de Saint-Just (1767-1794) was a military and political leader during the French Revolution. He was the youngest of the deputies elected to the National Convention in 1792 but quickly became a leading figure in the French First Republic. Widely considered to be Maximillian Robespierre's right-hand man, he served as one of the commissioners of the powerful Committee of Public Safety, solidifying its power with a ruthless and brutal program of intimidation. He was eventually executed by guillotine during the Thermidorian Reaction. Later historians dubbed him the "Angel of Death" for his role in the Reign of Terror.

**Chemistry:**

Silver fulminate (AgCNO) is the a salt of fulminic acid. It is a highly explosive compound. Although it has been used as a primary explosive, its use is limited due to its high sensitivity to impact, heat, pressure and electricity. It can be set off by the impact of a single drop of water. Today, very small amounts of it are often used to make novelty noisemakers such as bang snaps.

Sodium hypochlorite is a chemical compound with the formula NaClO. It is a salt of hypochlorous acid. When dissolved in water, it is known as bleach. Ammonia is a compound of nitrogen and hydrogen with the formula NH3. It is a precursor to many chemical fertilizers. When sodium hypochlorite is mixed with ammonia, the mixture produces toxic chloramines and explosive hydrazine gas, a compound often used as rocket fuel.

**Khao Luang:**

Khao Luang is the tallest mountain in southern Thailand. It has an elevation of 1780m (5840 ft). The mountain is located within Kao Luang National Park and is a popular tourist attraction.

**Daimler-Benz DB 605:**

One of the finest engines developed during World War II, the Daimler-Benz DB 605 was a German Piston V12 aircraft engine. It was a further development of the DB 601 engine and was used in later variants of the Messerschmitt Bf 109 fighter, Bf 110 heavy fighter, and Me 210 heavy fighter. It has a maximum power output of 1324 kW and an excellent power-to-weight ratio of 1.68kW/kg (1.02 hp/lb).

**Type 14 Nambu pistol:**

The Nambu pistol is a series of semi-automatic pistol produced by the Koishikawa Arsenal. It was designed by Kijiro Nambu and saw extensive service during the Russo-Japanese War, the Second Sino-Japanese War and World War II, during which it was adopted as an official sidearm. Around 400,000 were produced. It fires an 8x22mm round and had an effective firing range of 50m. It is a well-balanced pistol, although it is considerably less powerful than comparable Western pistols.

* * *

**Closing: **

**Dima:** Hey guys. Sorry for the long wait. The truth is, this chapter was pretty much complete three weeks ago. However, I ended up getting a spontaneous pneumothorax for no reason three weeks ago and was hospitalized for a week. I've been spending the past two weeks catching up on the work that I've missed.

**Pak:** I'm glad to see that you were in some pain as well. How do you even come up with this stuff anyway?

**Dima:** I've been listening to a lot of _Corpse Party_ while working and exercising. It was an interesting experience, to say the least.

**Yim:** I read some of the manga back when I was in Japan. It was alright. It has a bit of a cult following-kah, although I never really got into it. I never played the games either.

**Hinata:** It's horrifying…

**Sandra: **Only if you're a huge wuss who has never experienced real fear.

**Pak: **Please describe it.

**Sandra: **There was a copy on the school computer. It's about a class of students stuck in a nightmarish alternate universe. People should not be scared of fictional characters on a screen.

**Hinata: **It's terrifying. You're never safe. You always have to think on your feet.

**Sandra: **Think on my feet or what? The ghosts will come out of the screen to inform the Nazis of my hiding location? Or obliterate us? Cause those are what scares me.

**Hinata:** No. The monsters stay in the screen.

**Sandra:** Is there a part where the player confronts the horrors of starvation?

**Dima: **No…

**Sandra: **The game is full of pretend monsters that scream at you. But, unlike when a Gestapo officer screams at you, you don't end up sleeping in dark alleyways for a month. Here's a good gaming tip: when the ghosts charge you, turn off the gaming console.

**Pak:** Gaming console?

**Sandra:** As I wondered through the haunted world, I was sweating the whole time because my relatives could still be locked up in a camp in Poland, and I have no idea how to deal with that. The axe-wielding demons are a calming respite from the unyielding terror of normal life. As such, I would highly recommend _Corpse Party_ to any horror fan who has no real problems and is frightened by make-belief.

**Pak:** Yes. I fought in war, and I find the idea of paying to be scared shameful.

**Dima: **I'm living in America in April 2016, and I'm finding the presidential candidates horrifying shameful.

I'm finding solace in the knowledge that the 2016 presidential candidates are taking years off of their lives by running for president. This election cycle has been nearly unbearable, which is why I always try to pause and remind myself that every campaign stop, stump speech, and television appearance takes a huge toll on the candidates' health and well-being, and reduces their life expectancy. It is heartening to know the stress induced from holding multiple campaign rallies in a single day would later manifest as life-threatening medical conditions in each of the presidential hopefuls.

Whenever I find myself getting worked up about what one of the candidates has said or done, I just remind myself that the endless sleep deprivation on the campaign trail is going to ensure that none of them are around for too many more years. And it's also nice to think that if they actually make it to the general election, that will just speed along the whole process. However, the sense of solace is quickly wiped away after I remember that candidates' corporate donors would be around for a very long time…


	12. Riptide

**Chapter 11: Operation Riptide (Yuri)**

I gazed outside the window of the speeding SUV. It was spring on Tsushima Island, and the scenery was hauntingly beautiful. It reminded me of home. In the morning, there is cerulean and azure and sapphire and cyan, and all around they are landmarked by little puffs of cirrostratus and cumulus. At dawn, the world is birdsong and pink and lavender. At sunset my world is orange and red and yellow, almost like the sky is on fire. The colors are so rich that I taste them on my tongue, and are so vivid that I can feel them in my bones.

But as uplifting as the scenery was, Tsushima Island was not a paradise. And it certainly wasn't home. I grew up in a town just outside Asaka, near Tokyo. It was a town where everyone knew each other. Every day, after school, my little brother and sisters would come back with their gangs of little knuckleheads. I knew all thirteen of them. I knew their names, their families, their hobbies, and their favorite snacks. I knew how to make them happy, and they knew what made me happy. Life in the shade of suburban cherry trees was a life of peace and simplicity.

In contrast, life on Tsushima Island was brutish, violent, and unpredictable.

It wasn't the first time that this fact had dawned on me. It was apparent to all members of the Battlefront, no matter how terrible their previous lives were. Even those who faced daily physical dangers, such as Fujimaki, still had places of refuge and relative safety. Even such minor luxuries were not present in the afterlife. Enemies could attack you when you least expect it, and when they sought a fight, they meant it.

I led the Battlefront in the fight against Angel for almost five years, but I hadn't felt so frustrated since that fateful fight against Shiina in the underground. All this time, I thought that there was only one enemy: Angel. I organized, trained and led hundreds of souls in a quest for ultimate justice. The fight was going in our favor too. We had Angel trapped in a cave. Pak was under control, and we had all the time in the world to plan and make the next move. But then, the Major showed up and changed everything.

The Major was still a mystery. No one had ever seen him before, and no one had seen him since. Pak was the only guy who got a good look at him. If it weren't for the box he left behind, I probably would have simply written off Pak's encounter as a hallucination. Pak said that he once encountered the IJA Major somewhere in Asia. That likely meant Manchukuo, and that meant bad news for the entire Battlefront.

The Major was like Pak in more than one way. They were smart, calculating, mysterious, and dangerous. But unlike Pak, the Major could not be trusted at all. It seemed that he had been in the Afterlife for quite a long time, but he never made his presence known. He never tried to help, resist, or contact the SSS in any way. He might have blended in with the NPCs or faculty during the day, but it was also possible that he just hid in the forests or underground like Noda used to do. Noda did that because he was a moron, but the Major was anything but. The most dangerous enemies were the most unpredictable, and the most unpredictable enemies were usually the best organized and adept. The Major was all four, and he was brutal too.

The scene in the Guild still haunted my memory. It was like something from a horror movie with the added horror of being real. I was in the second-to-last group to leave the Guild. Chaa and Pak had to stay behind to set off the demolition charges. People were busy moving the salvaged materials to the gym, and no one bothered to guard the entrance to the Tunnels itself.

But when they failed to turn up a few hours later, we started to worry. The first scouts I sent down there complained about noxious fumes and had to come back up. Their eyes were watery, and they drooled incessantly. Worried, I grabbed some scuba gear from the swimming pool and headed down there myself. Otonashi and TK followed.

I didn't see the Major myself. He escaped while we were busy relocating the Guild. What I did see, however, were bodies. Yim, Takamatsu, Noda, and Fujimaki were lying in pools of urine and saliva. Noda was still twitching periodically. Otonashi's medical training kicked in; he instantly knew that they were the victims of sarin gas. His medical training proved helpful after all. I initially suspected that the source of the gas was the result of a leak in Pak's laboratory, but the scene I encountered in the Guild forced me to abandon that hypothesis.

There were only two bodies in the Guild—Pak and Chaa. Both went down fighting an unknown assailant. Chaa managed to fire half a magazine at his tormentor, but the Major bested him in the end. He was badly hurt and bled profusely from multiple bullet wounds. Otonashi pushed him to the surface in a wheelbarrow. He was at least still in one piece. Pak wasn't nearly as lucky.

I found Pak disemboweled and partially dismembered in a corner of the Guild. He managed to survive the poison gas, only to succumb to blood loss. His entrails and hand were lying in a large pool of blood and gastric juices on the floor. There was no doubt in my mind that they had been attacked by a new enemy. Angel never used firearms, and she certainly could not have released the poison gas. She had an accomplice.

Our initial suspicions were confirmed when we saw what happened to the ruins of Pak's design bureau. When it blew up earlier, it also brought down a huge section of the roof. A large pile of rock and dirt covered the entrance, trapping Angel inside. When we finally got to ruins, we found that someone had cleared away the debris with the Guild bulldozer and dug Angel out. The Major had rescued her and brought her to the surface. Where they went after that was a mystery. Angel reported back for class the next day, but she was even quieter than usual.

In retrospect, we should have dispatched all the SSS members on a manhunt. Angel, once killed, didn't respawn faster any faster than the rest of us. The Major had to either carry her to a safe location or hide her somewhere in the school. Either way, it should have been possible to find and recapture Angel. But I was so disturbed by what I saw in the Guild that the idea didn't even cross my mind.

In a typical Pak-ian fashion, Pak later wrote me a letter criticizing my actions that day. I should have kept watch over the Tunnels entrance, he said, and I should have gone after Angel as soon as I realized she was missing. He also complained about lack of transport vehicles and security cameras. If those changes were in place, he claimed, then the whole episode would not have happened. He made some valid points, but hindsight was always twenty-twenty. I couldn't help but feel that he was starting to become more dissatisfied with the SSS. Authority ultimately grew out of consent, and even minor grievances, when unaddressed, could spread and amplify.

But for the most part, Pak kept his problems to himself. He never discussed the letter, not even with Yim or Otonashi. If anything, the incident made him more determined and alert. The guy was already a genius. There was no doubt whatsoever about that. Even complete morons like Noda respected him. He could craft the most sophisticated weapons with amazing ease, and he knew just how to use them too. What he didn't know about mechanized warfare wasn't worth learning.

And he wasn't just another nerd either. That niche was filled by Takeyama. Pak was, for the most part, affable, charismatic, and popular. Not just among the SSS members, but also among the NPCs. The teachers liked him for this hard work and intelligence, and the NPC schoolgirls liked him for his looks and can-do attitude. Rumors had it that NPC girls would occasionally send him love letters. He never received any of them, though, as Sandra thought that it was a good prank to steal them for her own personal entertainment. She even based the lyrics of a song based on a love poem intended for Pak. For a former NKVD agent, he was strangely oblivious.

Or maybe Sandra was just too good at being sneaky and acting innocent. During her short life, she served as a member of a Polish underground resistance group smuggling medicine and arms into the Warsaw Ghetto. She managed to hide from the Nazis for two years, before an accidental explosion at a warehouse left her badly maimed and unable to escape. She was highly proficient at her job, and the same skills that kept her alive carried over with her in the afterlife. Her intelligence reports were the best that I could hope for.

But in the end, though, her intelligence and resourcefulness couldn't save her. Sandra was no longer with us.

No one knew exactly what happened in the Tunnels that day, but she was gone. She was obliterated either by Angel or the mysterious Major. Only a guitar and backpack marked her passing.

Sandra was truly gone. Obliterated.

It saddened everyone that Sandra had to be obliterated that day. She had brought so much laughter and joy to the Battlefront, but she passed away so ignominiously. She deserved better. Everyone agreed. She was a hero to the Battlefront, a hero to Warsaw, and a hero to humanity. Couldn't Angel—or maybe the Major—have given her a modicum of respect? Or at least a chance to say goodbye to her friends? But neither Angel nor the Major were fully human. They didn't care about Sandra, her past, or her dreams. I did. And I missed her so much.

I blinked rapidly, finding that my eyes were wet. The moisture leaked out of the corners and rolled down my cheeks. My chest felt so terribly hollow. I hoped, secretly, that she was not truly obliterated but merely kidnapped. But I doubted that Sandra was that lucky. We never received any ransom letters, and we lost all contact with the Major.

News of Sandra's obliteration hit Pak particularly hard. The two, despite their different allegiances and constant taunting, were very close friends. Their exchanges—at least the ones in Japanese—were a fine source of comic relief. But never again would their exchanges delight the Guild, and never again would they experience such joy, even in death. Sandra's life was short and miserable, but at least she made the most of it.

I felt another tear roll down my cheek. This time, Takamatsu noticed. He handed me a handkerchief, which I gratefully accepted. I wiped the tears away from her face. Obliteration was always sad, but the loss of a member as kind and generous as Sandra was particularly so. There was no eulogy fit for such a great name.

I held back the rest of my tears. There was still had a mission to accomplish, and I needed to concentrate. Keeping calm and carrying on sounded simple, but it was so much easier said than done.

I went over the operation plans again once more in my head. Like most Battlefront operations, Operation Riptide relied on meticulous timing and coordination. But unlike the previous operations, Riptide was directed against a member of the Battlefront—Pak—and therefore highly classified. Most of the Guild, including Yim, were kept in the dark. The full details were only known to Takamatsu, Otonashi, Chaa, and myself. We had been planning for almost a week, carefully locating the objectives and organizing our supplies. We made thorough contingency plans as well. There was little room for error.

The operation consisted of two simultaneous and separate parts. The first one was an operation devised by Takamatsu and Otonashi—crossing into Busan to obtain benzodiazepines for Pak. It would be the first time that any of us would leave Tsushima Island. Takamatsu and TK were in charge of the overall mission, while Chaa was in charge of the sea voyage. Otonashi also prepared extensively for the mission, making a list of all benzodiazepine drugs and their trade names. Having him tag along with Takamatsu would have been preferable, but he was still too inexperienced for such a difficult operation.

But even with the extensive preparations, I still had some doubts. Would they be able to land in Busan? Would they be able to locate a pharmacy in time? And would the drugs have Japanese or English labels at all? Nothing was possible without daring, but even for a SSS operation, Operation Riptide was highly daunting.

The second part of the operation, though, was a lot easier. We were going to break into Angel's room. Our previous attempts were foiled by our poor English skill and general stupidity. But with Pak and our newest member, Takeyama, those obstacles vaporized into thin air. We had to act while we still had the upper hand. Angel, the Major and Pak were all ticking bombs.

At 6:00pm—not 5:59, not 6:01—I received a text from Chaa: "All preparations are complete. The Cyclops is in the Aviation Engineering Building."

I promptly deleted the text and gave TK the go-ahead. The Honda Pilot accelerated as it rounded the cliff edge.

Soon, the new Guild came into view. It was a very impressive sight—I expected nothing less from Pak. Buildings, factories, warehouses, and containers were neatly stacked by the picturesque seaside. Trucks carry dirt and machined parts came and went on the asphalt roads. Cranes lifted concrete pillars and machinery into unfinished buildings. Bulldozers and steamrollers cleared out land for runways and hangars. Inside the factors, hundreds of workers churned out guns and cannons for a new fight against Angel. Mechanization and expansion created entirely new possibilities, and it would not have happened without Pak.

Pak took extensive measures to ensure the security of the new base. Deep trenches, bunkers, and barbed wire surrounded the entire facility. Machine gun nests, antitank guns, and guard towers covered the roads in and out of the Guild. The facility looked like that it was designed to withstand the Siege of Stalingrad.

The guards let us through the main gate, and TK dropped me off by the Aviation Engineering Building, which was still in construction. I signaled for TK to drive away. Pak didn't need to know that TK, Matsushita, and Takamatsu were also in the New Guild.

I found our Chief Engineer busy working at a wind tunnel. Forklifts carried machinery, test equipment, and furniture off of trucks and into areas marked with colored tape. Cranes lifted the fan blades onto scaffolds, where workers brazed them into position. Riveters and welders moved with uncommon speed and vigor. Pak was making rapid progress.

Pak himself was standing at a desk not far away from the fans, working feverishly on blueprints and spreadsheets. He discussed logistics on the phone while drafting what seemed to be a gearbox on the drawing board. Yim was busy by his side, typing and dispatching new instructions. Pak was incredibly quick to respond to changing demands and new problems. I never had to wait long for new weapons, and it was not hard to see why.

Yim was the first to notice my arrival. She greeted me with a wide but tired smile. She pulled on Pak's elbow.

"Hello, Yurippe," Pak greeted, wiping sweat from his forehead, "Sorry that it's so hot in here. The air conditioning unit should be installed by 22:35 tonight." His tone was energetic, but he was in rough shape. His hair was noticeably disheveled, and his face was covered by a layer of soot. He had dark bags under his eyes.

"Um… Ralf-kah," Yim replied, "I just got an email from Tamatani. He is having trouble with eddy currents in the air conditioner's transformer and would like an extension."

"Tell him to laminate the core and electrically insulate them. Use the silicon steel in Warehouse 5, Row 22, Column 50." Yim immediately turned to type the instructions into the computer. Pak had little trouble remember details like that, but normal people did.

"You're making fantastic progress here," I complimented, looking around the room, "Is this the wind tunnel you wanted?"

"It's as good as it's ever going to be," Pak admitted, shrugging slightly, "At Peenemünde, we used natural caves to store and seal air. We had wind tunnels that were supersonic. This one can only reach 1100 km/h, but it's good enough for us."

"That's good news. How is the ship project coming along?"

"Swimmingly," Pak replied, earning a few chuckles from the nearby workers, "The structure and propulsion systems are complete. Chaa is busy installing navigational equipment there right now. We'll be taking it out for sea trials tomorrow. It should be able to hit 25 knots in smooth waters."

"Fantastic." It really was fantastic. Chaa had taken a lead role in building the ship, and he knew it like the back of his hand. And as long as the boat was seaworthy, Operation Riptide could go ahead. The sea voyage had to succeed.

"Is there any particular reason for your visit, Yurippe?" Pak asked, twitching periodically from all the caffeine in his system, "The telephone wires were just connected a few minutes ago. You don't have to come down here anymore. Not to deliver messages, anyway." Pak was rather paranoid when it came to new communications technologies. He was particularly suspicious of email and text messages because wireless transmissions were easier to intercept. He insisted on telephone and fax communications between the school and the Guild. It was annoying at times, but Pak wouldn't have it any other way.

"Yes, Pak," I began. I drew a deep breath. This was the point of no return. "We will be infiltrating Angel's room tonight. We need someone with good English skills to decipher her documents."

"Why would they be in English?" Pak asked, scratching his unshaved chin, "I mean, Angel does name her special abilities in English, but does she use English for everyday documentation?"

"We've done this before, Pak," I explained, "We use GirlDeMo to distract Angel while the assault team breaks into her room. We broke in on multiple occasions, but her important computer files were all in English. We need someone who can read it quickly and accurately, so we need you to join us tonight. Yim can come too."

Pak and Yim nodded. "Sure. I'm willing to help. Just let me tell Chaa…" He turned to Yim, who took out a walkie talkie.

"There's no need, Pak," I interrupted, "I bumped into him on the way in. I've told him all about it. He'll cover for you."

"I see," Pak replied, "Yim, please cancel the sea trials later tonight. I want to inspect it one more time before we launch. Transfer the personnel to dormitory construction. There's still a lot of electrical work left, and we need another AC unit for that too."

Yim turned to make another entry into the computer terminal as Pak went to collect his belongings. A minute later, a white SUV—Pak's BMW X5—pulled up near the entrance of the wind tunnel. It was hitched to a trailer full of guns, explosives, and ammunition to be delivered to the school. The struggle against god and Angel required a lot of material, and delivers had to be quick and efficient. NPCs' cars were the perfect solution.

A Guild member tossed Pak the keys, and we hopped in. Yim climbed into the back seat a minute later, holding a laptop and a radio. Pak liked to be in constant communication with the Guild. Soon, we were speeding up the mountain road leading back to the school.

The island seemed to glow under the radiant glow of sunset, but I was too anxious to enjoy it. Takamatsu, Chaa, and TK were on their own. There was nothing I could do to help them with the trip to Busan. The only thing I could do to ensure the success of Operation Riptide was to explain the second part of the operation to Pak and get his advice.

"At 7:30pm, GirlDeMo will be starting its performance in the auditorium," I explained, pointing at the location on a small map, "The school administrators and Angel will be there to stop them. That's when we will infiltrate Angel's room, which is on the 3rd floor of the Girls' Dormitory."

Pak took a quick glance at the map before shifting his gaze back to the road. "How long do we have to examine her files? A proper search for a room that size needs thirty minutes, given our squad size."

"From previous experience, we can only get 15 to 25 minutes. Takeyama says that he needs five minutes to hack into Angel's computer system, so you need to account for that as well."

"I'll do my best," Pak replied, "But I can't make any guarantees. We should try to get another two or three members to join us, though." He wasn't happy about the timing, but he had no suggestions to offer. The GirlDeMo diversion was a tried-and-true method, and Pak valued effectiveness and reliability above all else. He wanted our operations to be smooth and predictable.

But one thing that wasn't nearly as smooth was the road back to the school. The road wound through steep hillsides and was full of potholes—big, deep ones. They made the SUV and trailer jolt like a broken carnival ride. It was a nuisance that Pak hoped to fix next week. But then, potholes weren't the only things bouncing the car around.

_Blam!_ An explosion? I ducked before I even knew I did it. We were still miles from the school, but instincts kicked in nevertheless. Pieces of broken glass fell around me. The transmission let out a metallic screech, and the wheels let out a clunking sound. The chassis began vibrating. At least one of our tires was blown.

"What the hell was that?" Pak cursed, struggling to steer the wounded car, "Did a grenade go off the in the trailer?"

I sat up and looked back. The rear window was shattered, but the trailer was undamaged. I looked back at Yim for an answer, but she was looking down. It was only then I realized that she was clutching at a bloody leg.

"It was a mine!" Yim squawked, "We hit a landmine." So it wasn't a grenade going off? So it was _intentional_?

"I've lost brakes and steering," Pak shouted, "I think that we lost our hydraulics." He was pumping the brakes, but we were not slowing down. The SUV was picking up speed as it descended the hill, and a sharp corner was rapidly approaching. The noise from the chassis was growing louder, and the drops next to the mountain road became steeper.

"Can you make that turn?" I had to bellow at the top of my lungs to make myself heard.

"Not a chance," Pak answered, struggling to turn the steering wheel with both hands, "Steering is jammed. Use the emergency brake. Pull it."

The BMW X5 did not have a parking brake lever. Instead, it had a plastic switch that could be lifted. It took me a second to find it, but when I pulled it, the car immediately responded.

The car slowed as I hoped, but it also curved sharply to the left. The SUV grazed along the guardrail, producing a shower of sparks. The guardrail was starting to bend under the immense inertia of the SUV.

And when the trailer hit, the guardrail finally snapped. The trailer tipped over the edge and dragged us down with it. The SUV spun in midair as we descended towards the rocky riverbed below.

I closed my eyes shortly before we hit the ground. There was a massive bang, and I felt the seatbelt jerk against my shoulder. There a sharp pain in my chest and neck. The next thing I knew, I was staring into a broken dashboard and a bloody airbag. I tried to reach out to Pak, but my arm didn't want to work. When I looked down, I understood why. It didn't hurt. Then, all at once, it did.

The shriek bubbled through the blood filling my throat. Mercifully, darkness soon enveloped me, and it didn't hurt anymore.

* * *

**Jargon Dictionary**

**Asaka, Saitama:**

Asaka is a city located in Saitama prefecture, in the central Kanto region of Japan. The city is located 15 km (9 mi) from Tokyo and often serves as a bedroom community for those commuting to Tokyo for work. It has a population of 136,000 and an area of 18.34 km2 (7.08 sq mi). The city is known throughout the region for its beautiful parks and golf courses.

**Silicon steel:**

Also known as electrical steel and transformer steel, silicon steel is a specialty steel tailored to produce certain magnetic properties. It may have zero to 6.5% silicon. The silicon increases the electrical resistivity of the steel. This property is particularly useful in transformers, as it decreases induced eddy currents and reduces core loss.

**BMW X5 (E70):**

The BMW X5 is a mid-size luxury SUV produced by BMW. It represents the second-generation of the BMW X5 SUV and is manufactured in Greer, South Carolina and Toluca, Mexico. Pak's vehicle is a 2010 BMW X5 xDrive48i, which is powered by a BMW N62 V8 DOHC piston engine capable of producing 353hp at 6300rpm. The vehicle is currently being recalled for its faulty Takata airbags.

* * *

**Closing **

**Dima:** Hey guys. Sorry for the long wait. I took some time to correct typos and inconsistencies in the previous chapters. They should read a little better now. Sorry again for the wait.

**Pak:** You say that in every closing. Aren't you done with the MCATs anyway? What else are you worried about now?

**Dima:** Yeah, but I'm taking a lot of courses this semester. I'm going for a triple major, so the amount of reading I have to do is immense. I'm also doing a lot of volunteering and working as a biology teaching assistant. I'm enjoying all of it, but it does not leave me with a lot of time for other activities.

**Pak:** Don't you have four midterms next week? Why are you uploading now?

**Dima:** Because something very unfortunate happened yesterday. I was very shocked and saddened to find out.

**Pak:** Oh…

**Dima**: That's right. The beloved King Bhumibol the Great of Thailand passed away yesterday in Siriraj Hospital in Bangkok. He passed away at age 88, having reigned for over 70 years.

**Yim:** Yes. I was also very sad to find out-kah. I had hoped that we would live to 120.

**Pak:** Are you going to attend the funeral?

**Dima:** I can't make it. But I did go to the Thai Student Club's meeting yesterday. We wrote letters commemorating the King. The letters will be passed on to the Thai Consulate in NYC and be shipped to Thailand.

**Pak**: What can we do in the meantime?

**Dima:** Iwasawa and Sandra helped me write a poem. I would like you all to help me perform it in his honor.

**Yuri: **Wait, Sandra? How is she…

**Dima:** I decline to comment. We have other things to do.

**Pak: **(Takes out alto saxophone) I know that the King played the alto sax. I will do the same.

**Dima:** (Takes out tenor sax) Yes. I'll accompany you on the tenor sax.

**Iwsawa:** I'll be a vocalist. Yim, Yuri, could you please join me?

**Yim:** Sure. It'll be a pleasure-kah.

**Yuri:** Singing is not my forte, but I'm happy to try.

**Hisako:** My guitar is ready to go.

**Miyuki &amp; Shiori**: Drums and bass are ready to go as well.

**Yui:** I'll be conducting you all, so you better pay attention. Let's start.

The tone is set to the _Battle Hymn of the Republic._ The lyrics are as follows:

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of our King.

He's the father of the nation to whom we shall always sing.

Throughout the land of Thais, shall all our voices ring.

For his truth is marching on.

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

For his truth is marching on.

King Bhumibol's body lies resting in the grave,

While weep children of the father whom he ventured all to save.

But though he lost his life while struggling for the brave.

His soul is marching on.

(Chorus)

The King was a hero, undaunted true, and brave.

Thailand knew his valor; he fought for her rights to save.

And even the grass grows green above his grave,

His soul is marching on.

(Chorus)

He expelled Thawal Thamrong with his seven men so few,

And he frightened brazen Viet Congs till they trembled through and through.

He was a brave and honest man; to his heart he holds true.

His soul is marching on.

(Chorus)

In the beauty of the moonlight, the King was born across the sea,

With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me.

As he lived to make Thais unite, let us live to make them free.

For his truth is marching on.

(Chorus)

The nation that he heralded he looks down from heaven to view,

On the people of unity with their flag red white and blue.

And heaven rings with anthems for the deed he means to do,

For the King's soul is marching on.


End file.
